


Brock. My Brock.

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [38]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy wishes her mom would stop showing people that, Embarrassing childhood videos, F/M, Triple Agent! Rumlow, and it's not like it means anything!, she's almost thirty one!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy finds out that her brother Dave's best friend since high schoolisn'tworking a safe desk job at the Pentagon. Jane finds out that Darcy had an awkward childhood crush on a...jackbooted SHIELD thug?
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 565
Kudos: 741





	1. You Work for SHIELD?!

**Author's Note:**

> *I own nothing! KeiraAlexisKlay shared this great tumblr post about childhood friends to lovers AUs and, of course, that gave me ideas about Darcy having known Brock literally forever and all the awkwardness that could ensue.

“My SHIELD job offer is here,” Jane said, staring at the email. Darcy peered over her shoulder at the laptop screen. “I’m going to ask for more money--”

“Brock?” Darcy said, mouth opening in a wide o.

“What?” Jane said, not following.

“That’s Brock’s email,” Darcy said slowly, the shock bleeding out of her face, replaced by something like anger. She poked Jane’s laptop screen, right at the line where multiple email addresses were cc’d. A note at the bottom of the email explained that it had been cc’d to relevant SHIELD personnel. One of them read _brock.rumlow@STRIKE.alpha.gov._

“Hey!” Jane said. “No poke, poke bad.”

“Sorry,” Darcy grumbled. “Dave gave me his number and that email address when you talked about moving to DC.” Dave was Darcy’s stepbrother, Jane knew. He’d been fifteen and Darcy had been three when Dave’s father had married Darcy’s mother, Liz. “He’s supposed to be working a safe desk job at the Pentagon!” Darcy fumed.

“Who is this again?” Jane said.

“Brock. My Brock,” she added, as if that explained anything. “He’s Dave’s best friend. He was...around a lot when I was little, before Dave graduated from the Naval Academy and we moved to Virginia,” she said. “They went to high school and the academy together. His girlfriend was my babysitter and stuff. He’s like my cousin, Jane. Almost.”

“Your almost cousin works for SHIELD?” Jane said.

“Well, it’s not like I knew!” Darcy said. 

“Wait, is this the guy that Dave sends all the funny brother-cousin jokes about from that tv show?” Jane said. “The one who was in the bad car accident?”

 _“Trial and Error,_ yeah,” Darcy said. “He was in that accident a few years ago. Because they go hunting or camping or whatever every year and had to cancel their trip the year he was recovering from his burns. I can’t believe he works for SHIELD.” She picked up her phone.

“Are you calling him?” Jane said, surprised.

“Yes!” Darcy said. “I’ve been complaining to Dave about SHIELD for _years_ and Brock never said anything. I know he knows about that!” She dialed angrily. “Brock? It’s M—Darcy. Yeah, that’s nice of you,” she said sarcastically. “I just found out you work for SHIELD? I just saw the email they sent to Jane Foster, you’re cc’d on it--” Darcy was pacing Jane’s lab. “What do you mean, how did I get that email? I’ve been working for Jane since 2011. Why’d you lie to Dave about your job? And where is my iPod? You took it from me in New Mexico! I’d just downloaded thirty songs,” she grumbled. Darcy huffed loudly. She covered the receiver. “He says he doesn’t know about my iPod, but he wants to know if you’re taking the job?”

“Maybe,” Jane said cannily. 

“Ask for more money,” Darcy said, then put the phone to her mouth again. “You’ve been lying to Dave for years! He thinks you handle PR for the Secretary of the Navy--oh my God, what do you mean, you lie to everyone and I can’t tell Dave? He’s your best friend! Do you lie to your mom?”

* * *

“I’ve got the cart,” Darcy said, yanking the flatbed cart out of the trunk of their rental. Jane had moved some of her most delicate equipment herself, rather than shipping it to SHIELD. They’d finally agreed on terms and were here for their SHIELD move-in day and facilities orientation. “And security has our keycards,” Darcy added, as they loaded up the cart. “What am I forgetting?” she asked Jane.

“Coffee?” Jane said. Darcy’s to-go mug was sitting on the console.

“Shit,” Darcy said. “I need that.” They rolled into the building, juggling equipment, bags, and cups, until they were stopped at the security check-in. 

“Dr. Jane Foster,” Jane said.

“Fuckdoodles,” Darcy said, sloshing her coffee as she tried to angle the cart with one hand. She’d spilled some on the floor.

“--and my assistant, Darcy Lewis.”

“Hi,” Darcy said grimly.

“You’re Darcy Lewis?” the security guy said, grinning. “Commander Rumlow wanted us to call him when you checked in.” He picked up a phone, tapped a few buttons

“Commander Rumlow?” Jane said, looking at Darcy. “Commander of what?”

“No idea,” Darcy said, shrugging. She wiped up the spill and looked at the security guy as he hung up the phone. “Brock-oli has a big fancy title now?” Darcy said.

“You--you call him Broccoli?” the guy said, evidently stunned.

“She’s known him since she was three,” Jane supplied. 

“What was he like?” he asked. 

“He and my brother Dave used to say they were taking me to the park, so they could flirt with girls, sneak hot beers out of the garage, and smoke,” Darcy said. “He did push me on the swings, though.”

“He’s the commander of STRIKE Alpha now,” the guy said. “SHIELD’s most elite paramilitary unit,” he explained to Jane. “He was undercover in HYDRA--”

“What?” Darcy said. She was so loud, people turned to stare.

“That’s how he got burned in the Triskelion collapse,” the guy said. 

“The--the what?” Darcy asked. Jane’s brain caught up faster.

“His car accident was the HYDRA Uprising?” she said slowly. The security guy shrugged.

“Probably?” he said. “Everyone had a cover story.”

“Holy shih tzu,” Darcy was muttering, when the nearby elevator opened. “It wasn’t a car accident?” Jane saw him first: a dark-haired, heavily-scarred man in tactical gear. He looked intimidating and scary until he smiled broadly. 

“Hey, little Mouse!” he said. Darcy turned. Jane watched Darcy’s whole face light up a little when he hugged her. “You got your braces out, huh?” he said. She frowned.

“Excuse me, I’m almost thirty-one,” Darcy said, still holding onto him.

“No fucking way,” he said, looking genuinely shocked.

“Yup. Which makes you _really_ old, Brock-oli.” She was smiling brightly. “Nobody’s called me Mouse in years,” Darcy said. Her expression changed as she studied his burned face. “I’m still mad at you, though.” Her tone was scolding. “How could you work for SHIELD and not _tell_ me?”

“I didn’t know you were Foster’s assistant,” he said, expression grim. “Dave told me you were working for a scientist, I thought you were safe in a lab someplace. I’m looking into that, by the way,” he said, as he offered Jane his hand. “Hi. Brock Rumlow.”

“Jane Foster,” Jane said. 

“Who did you deal with in New Mexico? Darcy’s name isn’t in the files?” he said, clearly curious.

“Phil Coulson,” both women said at once.

“Huh,” he said, looking thoughtful. “I hope that means he erased you for safety.”

“She tried to kick him when he took our stuff,” Darcy said, sounding oddly tattle-tale-ish, Jane thought.

“You tased Thor!” Jane said.

“I did,” Darcy said proudly. “We thought he was a drunk. I used my taser.”

“Good,” he said. He smiled at Jane. “I sent her that taser through Dave.” He touched his belt. “We’ve got better ones now. I’ll have to upgrade your model.”

“They took it at the front desk,” Darcy said, as they steered the cart onto the elevator. “You didn’t even know about London?”

“She was there with me,” Jane said. “During the Convergence.”

“Motherfucker,” he said, as the elevator doors shut.

“I tried to call SHIELD, but no one would connect me! I called the FBI, the State Department, everyone.” She paused. “That’s where I met Ian, too,” Darcy said. Jane thought she looked a little strange, like she didn’t know which of them to look at. 

“The boyfriend?” he said.

“Ex-fiancé,” Darcy clarified. He snorted. “What?” Darcy said. Jane studied their expressions: He looked oddly skeptical and Darcy looked, well, a little pissed off. Her cheeks were pink.

“You’re not old enough to get married,” he said. “You’re too young to make that kind of commitment.”

“I’m almost thirty-one,” Darcy repeated, voice stubborn. There was a strange vibe in the elevator. 

“So,” Jane said. “You’ve known each other since Darcy was really little, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She was so tiny.” He gestured to his knee. “And she was so shy, she used to squeak like a little Mouse and hide behind us. Dave and I used to take her Trick-or-Treating,” he said. “Does your mom still have those pictures?” he asked.

“Probably,” Darcy said.

“One year, we got to pick her outfit, so she went as girl Rambo,” he said, laughing.

“I wanted to be a princess,” Darcy said, sighing.

“Oh, yeah,” Rumlow said, smirking so his scars twisted. “Did you tell Jane about the Christmas video--”

“No,” Darcy said, going more pink with embarrassment.

“She’s like five,” he began.

“I was six and a half,” Darcy corrected. “He and Dave were in the academy by then.”

“We came home for the holidays,” Rumlow said, laughing. “So, Mouse decides that she thinks my uniform is very impressive--”

“Excuse me, you wore that dress uniform everywhere,” Darcy said. “He thought he looked like a movie star!” That only made him laugh more. 

“She went around telling everyone that she was going to marry me,” he said. “In her Cinderella dress.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said, suddenly realizing what was going on. She couldn’t help but laugh at the two people standing next to her. A scarred SHIELD thug was actually beaming at Darcy. A frowning, actually embarrassed Darcy. Jane has never seen Darcy be embarrassed. It was a novel experience. “Can I see this video of Darcy in her Cinderella dress?” Jane asked.

“Don’t encourage him,” Darcy shot out. The elevator opened to their new floor. “I don’t even have that video,” she said. Rumlow grinned.

“Yeah, but I’m sure your mom would send it to me,” Rumlow said. He took them to Jane’s lab. “Maria Hill is coming to brief you. I’ll see you at lunch. Don’t fall down, Mouse,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Darcy said. He laughed and shut the lab door. Darcy turned to the equipment cart. “I can’t believe he works here!” she said. Her cheeks were all splotchy. “And do you know how sad Dave would be--”

“So,” Jane said. “You’ve had a crush on that guy since you were how old?” Darcy’s head jerked up.

“I was six, okay? I didn’t really want to marry him, it was just that the uniform made him look like a prince,” Darcy said. “I also really liked Scooby Doo when I was six.”

“You still like Scooby Doo,” Jane said. “You have that Scooby plush--”

“Don’t tell Brock about the Scooby!” she said. “He’d make so much fun of me. He still thinks I’m fifteen or whatever. Did you hear how he talked about Ian?” Darcy sounded almost petulant. “Like we’re in high school.”

“But you and Ian broke up, so why does it matter?” Jane said.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Darcy insisted. “I’m a grown woman, Jane. Okay, sure, I had a crush on him when I was small, but I’m an adult now. He and Dave just like treating me like I’m a baby.”

* * *

  
  


Maria Hill was in the middle of talking to Jane about SHIELD security protocols when Darcy’s phone dinged. Jane’s did, too. That made Darcy look. “Oh, no. No, no,” Darcy said. She was staring at the screen in horror. Then she started dialing. 

“Is something wrong with your assistant?” Maria asked.

“Mom, I can’t believe you sent Brock that video!” Darcy said into the phone. “No, it is not cute when he’s going to show it to everyone at _my new_ _workplace_ \--”

“Rumlow?” Maria said, looking perplexed. “They know each other?”

“He went to high school and the Naval Academy with her stepbrother,” Jane said. “I have a feeling this is a video of her dressed as Cinderella saying they’ll get married one day.”

“What?” Maria said, actually smiling. Jane checked her phone. It was the video. Liz had forwarded it to Brock and then he’d sent it to Jane and Darcy.

The video was a bit grainy and edged with static, but the audio was clear. Six year old Darcy was standing in front of a lit Christmas tree in a shiny blue and white dress. She smiled. Her front teeth had a gap. “You like your Cinderella dress?” Liz asked, somewhere offscreen. 

“That’s her mom’s voice,” Jane clarified. 

“Yes,” Darcy said, voice a little lispy and squeaky. It sounded like she’d said _yeth_ instead of yes. “I’m gonna marry Brock in my dress,” she said. That came out _dreth._

“You are?” Liz said, clearly holding in laughter. Darcy nodded, grinning proudly. “Brock, did you hear that?” Liz called. Darcy’s little face did a funny thing. Jane had never seen a six year old look panicky and pleased at once.

“Yeah?” a voice said. The camera swung around. A very young and unscarred Brock was standing at the edge of the kitchen in his dress uniform. He did look like he was wearing a prince’s outfit, Jane thought. Nothing like how he looked now. He was grinning and boyishly unrecognizable. “What’d she say? What’d you say, Mouse?” he called.

“You’re getting married!” Liz said. 

“We’re getting married, huh?” young Brock said, smiling. “Is she hiding?” he asked.

“Wow,” Maria said, eyes locked on the screen. When the camera panned back to Darcy, she had both hands over her face. 

“She’s hiding,” Liz said, laughing as Darcy threw herself on the sofa, kicking her legs and hiding behind a pillow embroidered with a Christmas tree. There was laughter as the clip went dark.

“Oh my God,” the Darcy in the room with them said. She’d just hung up and was staring at Jane in horror. “Don’t show everybody that!”

“Yeth,” Jane cracked. Darcy stared at her murderously.

“I’m going to tase both of you,” Darcy said. “Him _and_ you.”

“On that note, I’m going mention that there are regs against workplace violence and let you two sort this out,” Maria said. She smiled at Darcy. “I had no idea Rumlow could look almost human. How old was he?” Darcy sighed. 

“Umm,” Darcy said, “eighteen or nineteen, I think?”

“She calls him Broccoli,” Jane said. 

“Really?” Maria said.

“Dave bribed me with candy to call him that,” Darcy said. “He hated it and Dave thought it was hilarious.”

“You’re really like family, then?” Maria said.

“Pretty much,” Darcy said.


	2. The Nickname is Misleading...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy went downstairs to SHIELD’s cafeteria for lunch, trailing nervously behind Jane. She didn’t know why she was so freaking anxious. It was probably the dumb video, she thought, sighing. She was used to being Jane’s assistant at work, not Dave’s little sister. That was it. “Wow,” Darcy said, momentarily surprised, when they went through the doors. She’d been expecting SHIELD’s cafeteria to be a huge, noisy room with shiny waxed floors, long tables, and a bare minimum institutional vibe. But this seemed more like a restaurant.

“It’s actually nice,” Jane said. They were sitting at a table when someone called out to Darcy. 

“Mouse!” She turned. It was Brock, being trailed by several guys and one woman in all-black. This must be STRIKE Alpha. They all looked intimidating, Darcy thought, but smiled anyway.

“Hi,” she said. He came over to introduce them.

“This is Darcy Lewis,” Brock said. “And Dr. Jane Foster.” The group chorused hellos. They’d formed a half-circle around the little table. Brock named them. “This is Jen Hernandez,” he said.

“Hi,” the woman said, shaking Darcy’s hand. The handshake was sturdy. She was fit, barefaced, and dark-haired. Pretty, in a take-no-shit kind of way, Darcy thought, as Hernandez turned to greet Jane. 

“Mike Evans,” Brock said, nodding to the handsome African-American man at Hernandez’s elbow. He smiled at Darcy. 

“You didn’t say your buddy’s sister was cute, Boss,” Evans said.

“I’ll remember that,” Darcy said. Evans winked at her. 

“Somebody’s in trouble,” the laconic-looking Asian man to Evans’ right said. He had a toothpick in his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. Evans moved to shake Jane’s hand.

“We knew you were pretty and a genius, we’ve all seen you with Thor,” Darcy heard Evans say flirtatiously to Jane. He was evidently a charmer. But Darcy was busy raising her eyebrows at Brock.

“Jimmy Chen, and Jack Rollins,” Brock said, introducing toothpick guy and the last man, a tall guy with slicked back hair. “You know Jack. He went on the camping trip with me and Dave one year,” he added. Darcy nodded.

“Dave mentioned you. I didn’t know you were SHIELD, though,” Darcy said, smiling. 

“Too right,” Jack said. “I was undercover. Nice to finally meet you, darl.”

“And nobody mentioned you were Australian?” Darcy said, eyebrows going up. Dave hadn’t said anything about that--she distinctly remembered Dave saying Rollins was a quiet guy from Oregon. Nice, but quiet.

“My cover was as an American,” the Australian said with a sigh. “Bloody difficult to maintain the accent.”

“Dave totally though you were from Oregon,” Darcy said. She glared at Brock. “How can you lie to Dave?” she complained. She tried not to be distracted by the way the corners of Chen’s mouth turned up around his toothpick or the way Hernandez flashed a grin at Rollins. She wasn’t going to be rattled if Brock had told a bunch of Mouse stories to his team. Brock sighed, looking almost indulgently at her.

“It’s my job, Mouse,” Brock said, ruffling her hair.

“Not the hair!” Darcy complained.

“She hates that,” Brock told Jane, laughing.

“What did you tell Mom?” Darcy asked.

“That I knew people you were working with now,” Brock said smoothly. “That’s not a lie.”

“I guess not,” Darcy said. “Stop!” He’d tried to mess with her hair again.

“We’re getting food, but I’ll be back,” he added. Darcy watched as he and his team got in line, talking and laughing. Evans looked back at her and grinned.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “I know he’s telling embarrassing stories about me.” 

“Are you sure?” Jane said.

“Yes,” Darcy said glumly. “I’ve got to do something.”

“What?” Jane said. “Do what?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy said. She was oddly frustrated. She changed the subject and asked Jane about some experiments. They were talking about the equipment when Rumlow pulled a chair next to Darcy’s with a screech. His team had returned and was sliding a larger table next to her and Jane’s.

“Sorry,” he said, as she looked over. He put his tray on her table with a thump. Darcy flinched. Brock laughed. “Are you still jumpy?” he said, laughing.

“Shut up,” Darcy said. He picked up something off his tray and plonked it on hers. A red velvet cupcake with frosting. “Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”

“That’s still your favorite, right?” Brock said, grinning.

“Yes,” Darcy said, surprised he remembered her love of red velvet.

“She loves cake,” Brock told the table. “I’ve never seen anybody who loves cake like Mouse--”

“Lots of people love cake,” Jane said loyally. Brock shook his head.

“Not like this!” he said, laughing. “She’d fight you for some cake. Didn’t care about dinner, but she would fight you for cake.” His sentences were broken by laughter. He had to pull himself together, as he beamed at Darcy. “She snuck downstairs and ate a corner of Dave’s graduation cake early! I think that’s the only time I ever saw you lie,” Brock said. “She kept saying it wasn’t her, even though she had frosting on her face. Her mom took a picture.”

“I was five,” Darcy said, blushing. All the STRIKE team looked amused. She almost didn’t want to touch the cupcake--but it did look really delicious. Darcy repressed a sigh of longing. “Stop making fun of my love of cake around all these crazy fit people,” she complained.

“Nothing wrong with liking cake, babygirl,” Evans said across the table. He grinned at her.

“Fine,” Darcy said, picking up the cupcake. “I’m eating this, because it looks really good, but I know it’s just your excuse to tell embarrassing stories about me,” she told Brock.

“I bet your mom still has that photo,” Brock said, tapping his phone. Darcy shook her head and took a bite of the cupcake. The frosting was cream cheese. She loved cream cheese frosting. She closed her eyes and mm’d inadvertently, then heard Brock laugh.

“There she goes,” he said. 

All through lunch her mom sent Brock photos of he, Dave, and Darcy as kids. He kept showing them to the table. There were lots of photos of a teenage Brock carrying a small Darcy around, pushing her on swings, or leaning her down to pet people’s dogs. “You hated walking, even then?” Jane said, failing to repress a smile at a phone of him carrying her. Another child was a blur in the corner of the frame.

“I just don’t like cardio or messing up my clothes,” Darcy insisted. 

“She never wanted to get dirt on her clothes or her little purses.” He grinned. “That blur’s my sister Fallon, she never wanted to be carried,” Brock said. “Mouse wanted me to carry her all the time, Fal wanted nothing to do with it.”

“She liked gymnastics,” Darcy said. “Fallon didn’t want to slow down.”

“One hundred miles an hour,” Brock said. “And never shut up, either.” Darcy looked at him. Something had occurred to her.

“I got her wedding save-the-date,” Darcy said. “How do you feel about this Mike guy she’s marrying?” She looked at Jane. “They met pretty recently,” she explained. “I haven’t met him yet.”

“He’s all right,” Brock said, taking a sip of his water. “Good guy, steady job. And she’s thirty one, so it’s about time if she wants a big family. She’s cutting it close.”

“Hey, hold on, why is it--” Darcy said, but his phone had dinged and his eyes lit up. 

“Oh, look, that’s when you had braces. I was there for Dave’s wedding,” he explained to the table. It was a family photo of them all dressed up for the rehearsal dinner. He was standing next to Darcy. She cringed a little--it had been taken during a teen phase where she had braces, too-skinny eyebrows, and had loved glitter eye shadow and butterfly hair clips. 

“He was the best man and he had Stamos hair,” Darcy said. She passed his phone across the table, first to Jane. Jane grinned. “I can’t believe I put plastic clips in my hair and wore my prom dress to a rehearsal dinner,” Darcy told Jane. She’d worn a shiny lilac halter dress and a sequined shrug.

“Awww,” she said. “Look at you, both babies.”

“I looked good with that hair,” Brock said, always unshakeably confident. 

“You’re bringing that back, huh?” Chen said slyly, looking at the phone that Jane passed to him.

“It’s been long enough,” Hernandez cracked. She slid the phone to Jack Rollins.

“Bloody hell, you do look like Uncle Jesse,” Rollins said.

* * *

“He’s obviously very fond of you,” Jane said, as they unpacked her equipment and work supplies.

“Huh?” Darcy said, looking over from where she was shelving some of Jane’s books. She turned, a large monograph in her hand. “Who?”

“Brock,” Jane said. “He cares about you.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Yeah.” She slid the book onto the shelf. “He’s--he does.” She thought for a second. That had been part of what made it difficult for her as she got into her twenties. He cared, but he’d clearly slotted her into “kid sister” role forever.

“Maybe you should see if he wants to go to his sister’s wedding together?” Jane offered. Darcy sighed.

“C’mon, Jane,” she said. “It’s a lost cause. He doesn’t even think of me the same way he does Fallon. Did you catch that--she can get married and she’s cutting it late, but I’m still too much of a baby to marry Ian? We’re the exact same age! I don’t get it.”

“It’s...definitely unusual,” Jane said, smiling in a weird way.

“You stop that. I’ve had enough laughing at my expense today,” Darcy said. 

“Okay, but I need to know something,” Jane said. That made Darcy pause. She dreaded what Jane might ask. She did _not_ want to talk about the time she’d burst into tears when her mom told her Brock had been deployed. Or that she’d called him once at Culver, totally smashed, and left him a long, rambling voicemail that ended in a squeaky _I love you_ because he’d sent her a postcard from Germany.

“What?” she said, feeling a nervous flutter in her stomach. 

“Was that really your prom dress?” Jane asked. 

“Oh. Yeah. I got the flu and missed prom, so I wanted to wear it sometime,” she said. “I thought the shrug was fun! Also, I was self-conscious about my weight and my boobs being so huge, because everyone either made fun of me or told gross jokes.” Darcy sighed wistfully.

“What?” Jane said.

“I was so glad Brock was at Dave and Sheila’s wedding because nobody ever messed with me when he was around,” she said. “One of Dave’s other friends used to just look at me in the creepiest way sometimes--” Darcy shuddered-- “and Brock scared the shit out of him and he stopped. That was when he gave me the taser. He thought I needed it at Culver.”

“Thor will probably thank him,” Jane said. 

* * *

“Fuck,” Brock said, pausing the treadmill to stretch his ankle. The muscle felt hot and catchy. Jack was on the one next to him.

“Getting tougher every year?” Jack said wryly.

“Bullshit, I just landed wrong on that last mission,” Brock said. “Not my fault the ground was rocky. Ahh, there it goes.” He felt the popping muscle relax and turned the machine on again. He preferred boxing or weight lifting to running on a machine like a lab rat, but you needed cardio to give you speed in the field, too. His feet pounded. _Thunk-thunk-thunk._ He caught Jack eyeing him as they ran. “What?” Brock said, feeling sweat on his back.

“Darcy Lewis is like your baby sister, eh?” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Definitely.” Sometimes, she felt more like a baby sister than his actual sister, Fallon. Fallon was independent and outgoing, but Mouse had always seemed different. More delicate. Shy and small, where Fal was loud, docile and obedient where Fal was stubborn. He kept running. He'd worried a lot about Mouse being pushed around by somebody. It was stunning to think she'd been working with Jane Foster, of all people, for years. Mouse tasing Thor? He could hardly imagine it. It would be nice to have her in town, though. He could keep an eye on her, Brock thought. He would need to tell his mother that she’d moved to DC. Angela loved Mouse. Maybe they could have dinner when his Ma felt like coming to visit. She would be able to handle all that wedding talk better than he could; he’d been getting updates about wedding colors and whether they were debating a sit-down dinner or a buffet, all that shit. Brock realized Jack was still glancing at him, grinning. “What?” Brock asked.

“It’s just a different side of you, that’s all, mate. So, is Darcy single?” Jack said.

“Why you asking if Mouse is single?” Brock said. A passing Hernandez stopped and grinned. Chen was walking next to her.

“Well, uh, she’s just not what we expected,” Jack said.

"What's that mean?" Brock asked.

“Rollins means she’s a total babe,” Jen said. “You made her sound like a little nerdy kid in glasses, Boss.”

“She wears glasses.” Brock frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with glasses, I never said she was a nerd,” he said, feeling stubborn. “Mouse is good with computers, but I wouldn’t call her a nerd.” 

“Uh-huh,” Jen said, looking at Chen significantly. “You hearing him?”

“What?” Brock said.

“You kept calling her Mouse,” Jen said. “We just made assumptions.”

“Denial’s a helluva a drug,” Chen said casually. Evans jogged up.

“What are we talking about? Have we talked about how the Mouse is a hot mama yet?” Evans said, smirking.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Brock asked. He glared at them. “Get your fucking minds out of the gutter, all of you. She’s off limits,” he said.

“Mate,” Jack began, sounding cautious.

“I told you he was interested in her,” Evans said to Rollins. Jack was frowning. Hernandez and Chen were watching avidly.

“No fucking way. I'm not--what the hell?” Brock said.

“You don’t think she’s pretty?” Hernandez said, in an almost innocent voice. She glanced around the circle of agents.

“Of course she’s pretty,” Brock snapped, “she’s got a beautiful face. Everybody thinks she’s pretty. Always said so.” 

“Okay,” Hernandez said, looking at him curiously.

“You think she hasn’t had creeps trying to mess with her since she was fourteen?” Brock said bluntly, feeling angry at all of them. “Me and Dave have always tried to protect her from all of that bullshit, so cut it the fuck out.” 

“Isn’t she thirty now?” Chen said.

“We’re not fucking talking about her like this,” Brock said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the fun comments on chapter one! It made me want to write more ASAP!
> 
> Also, an obligatory shot of Frank Grillo with floppy 90s hair, because it's beautiful hair and he looks soooooo young:  
> 


	3. Just Like Old Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy’s adjustment to DC life was more rapid than she’d anticipated. She and Jane were busy with all kinds of new projects. Jane had a real budget and intended to use it, Darcy realized. But she was happy with the on-premises supply of coffee and brownies. At night, they had plenty of people to socialize with, too. Thor dropped in to see Jane, Brock wanted to have dinner with Darcy when he wasn’t away, and his STRIKE team invited them to things. She wasn’t sure she appreciated Brock’s jokes about Alpha having a “Mouse for a mascot” but Darcy didn’t fuss about it—he had smiled sweetly and her anger melted away. She was working on running a program for Jane one afternoon when Brock stuck his head into the lab. “Guess who’s decided to surprise you, Mouse?” he said, grinning.

“What are you up to?” Darcy asked. Jane looked over curiously at them. 

“It’s not me,” he said, grinning. “Dave just called. Cooper’s away at camp, so he and Sheila are driving up here from Amherst to see you tonight,” Brock said. Dave and Sheila lived in Virginia. “He wanted to know the name of a hotel, I told ‘em they could stay with me. We’re all going to dinner. Jane, you and Thor in?” 

“Sure,” Jane said, smiling.

“A big family dinner, Mouse,” Brock said. “Just like old times.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “It’ll be great. Jane’s never gotten to spend time with Dave and Sheila.” She looked at Brock. “You’re not going to tell him about SHIELD?” she asked. He sighed.

“We can’t tell your brother about SHIELD, Mouse. There are rules and reasons we have to follow them,” Brock said, turning serious. 

“Okay, fine,” Darcy said. “But I object to this. Dave would never lie to you. And how to do you expect to explain that Jack’s not from Portland?” That made him laugh.

“We’ll hide Rollins in the Outback or some shit,” Brock said. After he left, Jane grinned.

“What?” Darcy said.

“You do anything he asks you, you know that, right?” Jane said.

“Not _anything,”_ Darcy argued. “I wouldn’t commit a crime!”

“Only because he’s never asked,” Jane said slyly.

* * *

“Hey, now,” Brock said. “No reason to exaggerate.” He’d spoken to Dave. Jane looked at Darcy’s brother across the table. They--she and Thor, Dave and his wife Sheila, and Darcy and Brock--were sitting in a very nice DC restaurant. She suspected this was the rag on Brock portion of the evening, based on the jokes and stories Dave was telling about their high school and early twenties exploits. Dave had just finished a story about Brock free-hand climbing the cliffs around a riverbed to retrieve a piece of camping gear that had blown away.

“Listen,” Dave was saying, “I’m just an old yeoman who somehow wrangled his way into being the registrar for the good people of Amherst County. But this guy”--he jerked his thumb towards Brock--”was Mister Special Warfare with all the glamour and the girls and the good hair. He always had a yen for adrenaline.” 

“I think you have great hair,” Sheila said, leaning over and pushing Dave’s dark hair off his forehead affectionately.

“Thank you, baby,” Dave said, throwing an arm around her. They made a striking couple, Jane thought. It was obvious that they loved each other. Sheila was a bubbly, outgoing blonde and Dave had a wholesome look that probably benefited him when he ran for public office. “But my point still stands,” Dave cracked. “I’ve got middle-aged spread and drive the speed limit, but he’s still as fucking skinny and reckless as he was when we were eighteen damn years old. It’s unfair that you PR types get to age slower than the rest of us.”

“Eh,” Brock said, shrugging. “I just go to the gym every fucking day, brother.”

“Yeah, right,” Sheila said, laughing. “How often does he go to the gym, Darce?”

“Oh, at least once, maybe twice a day?” Darcy said. 

“See? I knew who to really ask. How long?” Sheila said, looking at Darcy. “One hour a day? Two hours?” Darcy looked at Brock, as if for rescue. 

“I, uh, don’t know?” Darcy said. Jane could see Darcy’s blush, even in the darkened restaurant. 

“Mouse isn’t ratting me out,” Brock cracked, making Thor laugh. Jane smiled at Darcy, but Dave groaned. 

“That’s a terrible fucking pun,” Dave said.

“Just awful,” Sheila agreed, giggling. 

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Brock said, lifting his beer to his lips. “She’d never do that to me, Sheila, everybody knows that. Me and Mouse, all the way.” Jane thought he smiled at Darcy across the table. But she noticed Dave was frowning.

“C’mon,” Sheila said coaxingly to Darcy. “You know how much time he spends at the gym! You always knew where he was!” She was a little sloshed, Jane could tell, because she wasn’t paying attention to Dave’s face.

“You make me sound like a stalker,” Darcy said, huffing out a sigh that made her shoulders go up.

“No, no way,” Sheila said, shaking her head so vigorously that her long hair brushed Dave’s face and he blinked and pulled back jokingly. “It was always so sweet and innocent,” Sheila said to Jane and Thor. “She _adored_ him. Have you seen all the pictures and the videos?” she asked. Jane nodded. Sheila smiled back widely. “She used to follow him around like a little duck!” Darcy’s sister-in-law said.

“Aye,” Thor said.

“We know,” Dave said. “They know.”

“We saw the video,” Jane admitted.

“My mom sent it because _someone_ asked for it,” Darcy said. Jane thought Darcy’s look at Brock was a little pointed.

“C’mon, Mouse,” Brock said. 

“And you’re so pretty,” Sheila said to Darcy, seeming not to hear Brock. “Just gorgeous! And you had those great boobs--” she said, gesturing.

“Gee, thanks,” Darcy said.

“Well, they’re amazing boobs!” Sheila said. “Some of us aren’t so gifted. I mean, I can remember when she was fifteen or sixteen, I was really worried. I said to Dave, _you’ve got to watch that situation.”_ She pointed at Darcy and Brock, swirling her finger. 

“What are you talking about?” Brock said, grimacing.

“Sheila was afraid the _To Catch A Predator_ guy would make an appearance,” Dave said.

“Because I know how guys are and he was almost thirty,” she added. “You know what I mean? You have to be on your guard! I was going to give her the talk! But Dave was insistent,” she said, switching to a gruff voice, _“you can trust Brock, Sheila. Don’t embarrass Darcy!”_

“Can we not embarrass Darcy now?” Darcy said.

“You’re embarrassed? She’s insulting me,” Brock said, expression dark.

“She’s not insulting you,” Dave said. “That’s the point of the story. That you’re trustworthy.”

“Pffhht, you’ll get over it,” Sheila said, waving her hand airily. “You’re both fine now. We were just worried back then. She’s going to marry Ian--where’s he at?”

“We broke up,” Darcy said, sighing.

“You broke up?” Dave said, frowning again.

“Months ago,” Darcy said. 

“Shit,” Sheila said. “What happened?” Darcy pulled a face. Jane realized Dave was looking seriously at Darcy now.

“He’s already with someone else,” she said. “A woman he knew from college. Arabella.”

“We hate Arabella,” Jane said crisply.

“We do,” Darcy said in a flat voice.

“She is not an honorable woman,” Thor said. 

“Oh my God, it was that bad?” Sheila said.

“I caught them in my bed,” Darcy said. Dave shook his head.

“Oh my God!” Sheila said. “That asshole. That complete asshole!”

“Somebody cheated on you?” Brock said, looking horrified and baffled at the same time. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Brock asked. “The motherfucker--”

“Maybe she was afraid you’d take it badly,” Dave said.

“I did as well,” Thor said.

“I fired him,” Jane said. Thor nodded.

“It was deserved,” Thor said. 

  
  


* * *

The stars were beautiful at night, Darcy thought, sitting on the steps of Brock’s back porch. She’d gone outside alone for some air. The STRIKE team had stopped by after dinner to meet Dave and Sheila. It was humid out here, but less crowded and noisy than in the kitchen. Brock was demonstrating a brand-new margarita machine and Darcy had a headache from drinking and the sounds of crushed ice. She had felt strangely put out when Sheila told the story at dinner. It made her feel oddly like a child again, wanting his attention and feeling small and babyish. Darcy heard the back door open and turned. “Hey,” Dave said, stepping outside. “Can I talk to you? It’s important.”

“Sure,” Darcy said. 

“The Mouse is back, huh?” Dave said, sitting down next to Darcy. “I hope you’re not picking up any old habits?”

“What’s that mean?” Darcy said, looking at her brother curiously. He plonked down his margarita glass with a heavy sigh.

“You know what I mean, Darce.” He paused, then started talking again, quietly. “I’ve never said anything to you because you were younger, but isn’t it time to let him go?” he said, leaning forward. 

“Let him go?” Darcy said. “What?”

“You’ve been trailing after Brock since you were a little girl, Darce. But I thought you’d broken the pattern when you started working for Jane. I was proud of you. Really proud,” he said. “You were engaged to somebody else and moving on.” His gentle, serious tone was worse than if he’d been making fun of her. 

“I can’t help that Ian cheated,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “But that makes you vulnerable now.” Dave looked straight ahead and held his margarita glass in front of his eyes. The light from the street lamps gllnted off the glass’s blue rim. Darcy stared at Dave, dreading what he was going to say next, but unable to get up. Darcy had never brought up her feelings for Brock with Dave, even though she knew everyone joked about how she’d followed him around as a little girl. She’d preserved the status quo. “I came to see how you were doing in DC and I see he’s calling you Mouse and he talks like you’re over here all the time,” Dave began, sounding sad.

“It’s not all the time!” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” Dave said. She felt like his brown eyes saw through her. He wasn’t flashy like Brock, but Dave was astute in his own way. It was one of the reasons she couldn’t believe Brock would lie to Dave.

“It really isn’t,” Darcy insisted. “I work a lot and we go out in groups.” 

“But you know his schedule at SHIELD?” Dave said. Darcy didn’t know what to say to that, so she shook her head.

“I don’t,” she said. “It was just a joke--wait, you know about SHIELD?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Dave said.

“Oh. You didn’t tell me. I didn’t know until we got here,” Darcy said.

“I thought you’d worry about him,” Dave said. 

“The car accident--”

“Wasn’t a car, yeah,” Dave said. “He’s got building sized dents.”

“Jack’s from Australia, not Oregon,” Darcy said. Dave whistled. 

“That asshole told me Rollins was doing a joke accent tonight.”

"Don't call Brock an asshole, he just wants to follow the rules," Darcy said. They sat in silence for a bit, before he spoke again.

“I just don’t want to see you wasting your time over something that’ll never be,” Dave said. “I know you probably wanted him to see you differently--hell, I thought he would, too, eventually. But it’s just not gonna happen if it hasn’t already,” he said. Darcy tried to hold in her wince. “I’m sorry,” Dave added. “I didn’t want to give this speech.”

“You really didn’t need to,” Darcy said, feeling brittle and exposed. “I’m thirty years old. I know what our relationship is.” She couldn’t keep the resentment out of her voice. Dave tilted his head at her and raised his eyebrows.

“Kiddo,” he said softly. “I don’t think you do. I’ve seen Brock with girlfriends. No woman can hold his attention for long. He’s never dated anyone for more than, what, eight months? He’s forty-three years old, for God’s sake. But the man loves you with his whole fucking heart.” Darcy felt sharp pressure behind her eyes and shook her head as Dave talked, but didn’t argue. “He really does, Darce. It’s the damnedest thing,” Dave insisted. “You should value that. That kind of love. Don’t wish for something else and not see what’s right in front of you.” He looked at Darcy sympathetically. “I know it’s tough.” 

“Bite me, Dave,” Darcy said, laughing through her tears. “Save that speech for Cooper’s Little League games, you asshole.” She wiped at one eye with her fingers, drawing in a shaky breath. Dave grinned slightly.

“There’s my little sister,” Dave said. “You know, he never sees that side of you, either. You’re all sweet with him, he’s all sweet with you. It’s something special as it is. If things changed, maybe you’d be losing something important. Somebody you could always rely on.” 

“Is that what you’re trying to sell me?” Darcy said. They were both quiet for another moment. Darcy could hear cicadas. Dave sipped his drink. 

“You can marry anybody,” Dave said. “Being married is washing somebody’s socks and listening to them tell the same stories about the people they hate at work.”

“You love Sheila’s smelly socks, she told me,” Darcy said jokingly. Dave winked at her.

“I just want you to be happy, Kiddo,” Dave said.

“You want me to stop thinking about love and be happy?” Darcy joked.

“Huh?” Dave said.

“Marilyn Monroe said something like that in _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,”_ she told him. “Or maybe it was _stop having fun and be happy,_ I’m not sure.”

“You know, I don’t think I’d look good as a blonde,” Dave said. “But it’s good advice.” He stood up. She thought he was done, but Dave stopped with his hand on the door. “I think you get the best of him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” he said. She sat in the dark and tried not to cry.

* * *

Darcy hoped she didn’t look too visibly upset when she went back inside a few minutes later. Dave and Sheila had probably gone to bed. STRIKE Alpha’s crew had left--Chen was the designated driver for the night--and Jane was passed out in Thor’s lap on the couch as he snored. Brock looked up from where he was cleaning the kitchen. “Hey, Mouse,” he said. “You okay? Dave said you wanted air?”

“Yeah, I have a little headache. I’m just going to call an Uber,” she said. “Get them home.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, frowning. “Crash here. You don’t know who’s driving those damn things.”

“Dave and Sheila are in your spare room,” Darcy pointed out. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” He looked perplexed for a second.

“Foster and Thor can take the couch and you can sleep in my bed,” he said.

“Oh God,” Darcy said, thinking of Dave’s reaction.

“What?” Brock said, frowning.

“I just--” Darcy began, not able to look at him and wanting to say _I’m so tired of people talking about us when there is no us._ “I don’t want the jokes, that’s all,” she said. “You know how it is.” She glanced at Brock. He was scowling. He tossed the dishcloth in his hand down and moved over to her, taking her shoulders.

“Don’t let them get to you, okay? Sheila was just drunk and talking bullshit--” he said, rubbing his thumbs over Darcy’s collarbones. It was difficult not to show a physical reaction when he touched her like that. She ached to melt into his arms and tuck her face against his neck. 

“That’s not it,” she said, sighing. “Even your team knows I’m the Mouse.” 

“So? You’re _my_ Mouse,” he said, tapping her nose. “What’s bugging you?” 

“I liked being the Mouse when I was seven,” Darcy said, smiling weakly at the familiar gesture. “I really did. But I feel--I feel--” She couldn’t finish the sentence. He was looking at her so intently. 

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her close. He rubbed her back. “You’re just having a bad time, all right? Bad night. Why didn’t you tell me about Ian, huh?”

“I dunno,” Darcy said. She closed her eyes, face against his neck. The scars felt different against her nose. She inhaled. Then something dawned on her. “You still smell the same. Have you been wearing the same cologne for twenty years?” she said, oddly amused. She giggled.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why’s that funny?”

“No idea,” Darcy said.

“You’re just tired,” Brock said. He dropped his arm and she opened her eyes as he stepped away--only to have him pick her up easily.

“Oh,” Darcy said, surprised. “I’m a little heavier now, Brock!”

“Nah,” he said. “I gotcha.” He carried her into his bedroom. She tried not to show nervousness--or eagerness. Brock sat her down gently on the bed. He leaned in closer to her. For a moment, she thought he was leaning towards her for a kiss. She moved forward without thinking. Brock smiled slowly. “Get some rest,” he said gently and stood back up. He was holding one of the pillows from the bed. “I’ll take the floor,” Brock said. He dropped the pillow on the floor and moved to his closet. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Darcy said. She looked at the bed she was sitting on. “We can put pillows between us?” she offered tentatively, turning her head to look at Brock. He stepped out.

“Yeah?’ he said. He’d taken his shirt off. Darcy realized her jaw had dropped and then quickly corrected her expression. “Good idea.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She busied herself taking her boots off, just to have something else to look at. 

“You want some of my sweats to sleep in?” Brock offered.

“Umm, yeah. Sure,” Darcy said. Dave was going to have a cow. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm headcanoning that Kyle Chandler is Dave and Leslie Mann is Sheila.
> 
>   
> 


	4. Doesn't Anybody Want Coffee?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“You like the book?” Brock asked. She was reading. All he could see was the very top of her head over the pillow barrier. He’d given Mouse a history book off his nightstand he thought she’d like. 

“Yeah,” she said, in the distant voice he knew meant she was focused. He grinned. They would talk about it later, he knew. Brock had been sending her books and music for years. When she was small, Brock had realized Mouse picked up things like a sponge, so he’d tried to set a good example, expose her to the right things. Especially because she was so sweet and easily led. He’d quit smoking in time--getting Dave to quit smoking with him had been a bitch--but he still felt slightly guilty that he’d given Mouse her first sip of coffee. Mouse had been the caretaker of half his music collection when he left for the academy and didn’t have dorm space. She was the only seven year old he’d have ever trusted with his Dylan albums. Dave had thought it was ridiculous when Brock insisted they take his kid sister to Tom Petty concerts or when Brock had mailed Darcy some of his gen ed books at the end of every semester or sent her emails about documentaries and movies he thought she’d like. But what did Dave know? Mouse had been in the top ten percent of her classes, a quiz bowl champ in high school, and sailed into Culver, where she graduated with a 3.9 GPA in political science. She’d always joked it was because he’d sent her a book on US foreign policy that he’d had to read for his own classes. They’d drifted apart a little, sure, but she was still his Mouse: he sent her the latest bestsellers on her birthday with an excuse about being posted overseas when he was Crossbones and she made him Spotify playlists for the gym every few months. He’d been shocked to find out she was _that_ Jane Foster’s assistant, but proud of her. Upset that she’d been left in the wind by SHIELD during the Convergence--he’d fired off a few angry emails to the relevant personnel about getting SHIELD an official goddamn emergency number for aliens--but also proud. Mouse was on the right track, he thought. She was even talking about graduate programs, since eighteen hours made you eligible for higher pay at SHIELD. The only thing that troubled him was this news about Ian. He couldn’t believe someone would cheat on her. What kind of fucking idiot, he wondered, could ever cheat on Mouse…  
  
And she had to be upset about it, sneaking off by herself tonight. He sighed.

“What?” Darcy said, peeking up over the pillows. “I heard that sigh,” she added. It was strange to have something between them, a physical barrier. Years ago, she wouldn’t have tolerated it for a second. She used to build her pillow forts around him and leave Dave outside. He grinned. “What are you smiling about?” she said.

“I can only see half your face,” Brock said. He moved a pillow. “C’mere, Mouse,” he said, gesturing. “I know you need snuggies.” Ever since she was little, Mouse had gone to him when she was upset or crying, asking for chocolate and hugs. Except she called them snuggies. 

“You think I need snuggies?” Darcy said, grinning at him and shaking her head. 

“You were too quiet tonight, I know what that means,” Brock said. A too quiet Mouse was an upset or tired Mouse. 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said wryly. But she wiggled over when he moved the pillows and he tucked her under his arm with a sigh. “I’m too quiet,” she scoffed. “I’m reading my Hampton Sides book!”

“It’s a good book,” Brock said, stroking her back. She shivered a little. “Cold?” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. He pulled the sheet over both of them. 

“There we go,” he said. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she said, fingers splayed across his chest. “This is okay, right? The scars don’t hurt?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“No pain whatsoever,” he said. Even if it had hurt, he wouldn’t have denied her hugs. But she felt warm and soft on top of him. He caught her studying his scars, expression tender. “I don’t hurt, Mouse,” he repeated. A slow smile crept over her face.

“Yeah, but you’re going grey. I see flecks in your five o’clock shadow,” she teased. “Are we dying our hair now?”

“Hold the fucking phone, I see some grey--” he said tapping the shiny strand near her temple.

“I have one grey,” she said. “One!” 

“Nun-uh,” he said, ruffling her hair.

“Ahhh, stop that!” she said. They were both smiling at each other when the nagging, unhappy thought returned. Brock sighed.

“I’m sorry about Ian,” he said. Mouse scrunched her nose cutely.

“It’s okay, I’m going to be fine. He did me a favor--give me a bookmark, I know how you hate when I dog ear your books,” she said.

“What do you mean he did you a favor?” Brock said.

“He cheated _before_ we got married, so I didn’t need a lawyer to throw his sorry ass out, which saved me money and half of my thrift store furniture and that Jane Austen boxed set you sent me last year,” Darcy said, grinning, as he passed her a slip of paper from his bedside notepad to use as a bookmark. “Thank you,” she added. Brock snorted, then looked at her for a long moment. He toyed with the ends of her hair.

“I can’t imagine anybody cheating on you,” he said, shaking his head.

“You keep saying that,” Darcy said, looking at him wryly. “I’m just a regular girl. You know lots of people cheat, right? It happens. Did you not read Elaine Sciolino’s book about the French and seduction? Adultery is a legitimate hobby in some parts of Europe, like bocce. Or tennis.” 

“Don’t joke,” he said. 

“You’re the one smiling,” she said, voice almost piquant. “I love my Jane Austens, by the way. They’re very pretty. I wouldn’t want Ian to take half of them, not even the one with boring Fanny Price.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Brock,” she said, turning her head and resting against his chest. He looked at her. She started reading the book again.

“I’m not worried about you,” he said, shaking his head. He couldn’t articulate it well. “I’m just--how?”

“How what?” Mouse said, pausing and looking up at him. Her blue eyes were perplexed.

“I’ve seen pictures of him,” Brock said, unable to keep the flinty note out of his voice.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And?”  
  
“He was a scrawny nerd punching above his weight class and he cheated on _you?”_ Brock got out. His own anger took him by surprise. It was like a vise around his throat.

“Ohhhh,” she said, clearly amused. Somehow, her expression made him want to go on.

“You’re funny and smart and beautiful. He’s got some fucking nerve.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” she said. He realized she was blushing slightly. “But cut it out, I’m not used to all these compliments,” she said, biting her lip. The gesture was adorable.

“You deserve better, Mouse,” he said.

“I know,” she said, sighing. “Dave sort of gave me a speech out there about moving on with my life, not waiting around for a guy to realize my value.”

“Yeah?” Brock said. “You been waiting for Braithwaite to see how special you are?”

“Something like that,” Darcy said, grinning. “His name is actually Boothby. You know, you never got that right,” she told him.

“I knew he wasn’t good enough for you,” he said, feeling stubborn. Her grin widened.

“Well, he definitely proved that,” she said, nodding. She frowned. “I’m just not looking forward to getting back out there. Dating’s so much work. You think Fal would let Jane and Thor be my plus-one? Jane would go with me, but Thor loves to dance at receptions and stuff. I don’t want him to feel left out.”

“Sure,” he said. “Fal can be bribed and he’s a celebrity. They both are. We can call her tomorrow, get it sorted.” He stroked her hair. An idea occurred to him. “Darcy?”

“Hmm?” 

“You, uh, want to go to Fallon’s wedding with me?” Brock offered. “Be my plus one?”

“What?” she said.

“If you want to bring Jane and Thor, I’ll talk to Fal, see if we can squeeze ‘em in or give them you and your plus-one slot. And you and me can go together. The numbers’ll be the same. You like that idea?”

“Uh, um, yes?” she said, going from surprised to pleased. “It would be nice to have you with me.”

“Good,” Brock said. “You sleepy yet?”

“No, but you won’t let me read,” she said in a playful voice. He laughed. He loved those rare moments when she was sassy with him. Usually, he had to call her early in the morning to get any back talk. “You turn the light off,” she said. He turned and pulled the cord on the lamp.

“Where you going?” he said, as she moved to put the book on the nightstand in the newly-darkened room.

“I’m going to sleep!” she said.

“Get back over here, Mouse,” he said.

“I’m not sad,” she insisted. “I’m over Ian, okay?”

“Maybe I need snuggies,” Brock said. He heard her move back towards him and chuckled.

* * *

Jane woke up to the sound of equipment malfunctioning or robots having sex. "Huh?" she muttered. She sat up and patted the couch, dimly locating Thor’s chest muscles. He was snoring. “Who--what is that noise?” Jane said.

“Hi,” Sheila trilled, from somewhere nearby. “Sorry! Brock has a loud ass burr grinder. I’m totally manning the espresso machine, because this thing is fancy pants. Do you want a double shot?”

“Yes,” Jane said, forcing her eyes open. It was just she and Sheila and a sleeping Thor. “Where are Darcy and Brock?” Jane wondered.

“I don’t actually know?” Sheila said, looking perplexed. “Where _are_ they? Did he go to the gym? He usually goes to the gym--” she was saying when Dave came out of the second bedroom. 

“Morning,” he said. Jane was going to say good morning, but she was drowned out by the sound of the burr grinder. That was the exact moment that a shirtless Brock stepped out of his bedroom. He was frowning.

“Shhh,” Brock said. “You’re going to wake Mouse. She’s still asleep.”

“Huh?” Sheila said, turning off the machine.

“You’re going to wake Mouse,” Brock said, more loudly the second time. He gestured with his thumb to his bedroom door. “She’s sleeping, Sheila.”

“Oh. That’s where she is,” Sheila said. “We were wondering--”

“My sister is in your goddamn bed?” Dave cut in, suddenly grabbing the other man’s arm. That was when Jane realized he’d gone stony-faced. “You asshole. You fucked my sister?” Dave said slowly. He was staring angrily at Brock. His fingers were white, he’d pressed them into Brock’s bicep so firmly. 

“Fuck,” Sheila said, mouth dropping open.

“No, what?” Brock said. “I didn’t--we slept together, but we didn’t _sleep_ together.” Brock looked baffled. His expression would’ve been comical, had Dave not looked so serious. “I didn’t want her taking an Uber, that’s all,” Brock said. “Nothing happened, Dave.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Brock,” Dave said, dropping his arm. His face was relieved. “You scared the fuck outta me.”

“I scared you?” Brock said, raising his eyebrows. “You’re the one losing your shit because Mouse in sleeping in my room.” He looked like he didn’t know how to respond.

“Yeah, sorry man. You know how it is,” Dave said.

“I think Dave needs coffee,” Sheila said archly, “considering how grumpy he is.”

“What do you mean, _you know how it is?”_ Brock said, even more slowly. “What the fuck’s that mean?”

“Brock, do you want coffee?” Sheila offered. He ignored her, staring at Dave.

“You know what I mean,” Dave said, shrugging. 

“I do, huh?” Brock said in that same slow way. “Why don’t you explain it to me, just so I’m sure. Really spell it out for me, man.”

“C’mon, Brock,” Dave said. “Nothing happened, we don’t need to discuss it.” 

“You don’t think I’m good enough for her?” Brock asked, voice almost growly.

“Why don’t I make everyone dalgona?” Sheila offered, in a desperate attempt to distract them. Neither man seemed to notice.

“Look, you know how I feel about you, I’d trust you with my life--” Dave said.

“But not Darcy?” Brock asked. “Is it because of the scars?”

“No, of course not,” Dave said, shaking his head and looking befuddled. “You could date all kinds of women, you know that--you _have_ dated all kinds of women,” he said.

“Just not her, huh?” Brock said. “Because you’re in charge of her--”

“She can do what she wants, but we all know that you’re not the kind of guy to make a commitment,” Dave said, turning defensive. “You’re forty-three goddamned years old. When’s the last time you went on three consecutive dates with the same woman?” 

“What do we do?” Sheila whispered to Jane. “I’ve never seen them fight.” 

“I’ll wake Thor,” Jane said, giving the men space as she crossed to the living room. “Thor!” she hissed. She was shaking Thor awake when the dispute got louder.

“Fuck you, Dave!” Brock yelled. “Fuck you and your middle-aged dad bullshit, you’re not better than me.”

“Huh?” Thor said.

“Wake up,” Jane whispered. He looked around. “I need you to break up a fight,” Jane said. Thor sat up quickly and grabbed Mjolnir. But the two men in the kitchen had gotten dangerously quiet and close.

“So, the fact that you’ve known each other since she was young, that doesn’t matter?” Dave said slowly. He’d taken a step towards Brock. Brock had moved forward, too--he was now standing intimidatingly close to Dave, glaring in the other man’s face.

“No,” Brock said stubbornly. “If we want to be together, we’re both adults, goddammit.” In response, Dave shook his head, smirking and half-turned away.

“Well, I know she’s an adult,” Dave said under his breath.

“She’s going with me to Fallon’s wedding,” Brock said, more loudly, as if daring Dave to say something back. He jutted out his chin aggressively. “What you gonna do about it?” Brock said.

“Oh, here comes the Bronx accent, ‘cause somebody wants to be a badass,” Dave said. “When we all know you spent most of your life upstate in the suburbs.”

“I lived in the Bronx until I was fifteen,” Brock said, glaring. “I’m from the fucking Bronx.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. How many times do I have to hear this shit?” Dave said. 

“Get the fuck outta my house,” Brock said. There was a tiny, alarmed squeak from across the room. It was Sheila. She was waving her arms in the air frantically. She pointed in the direction of Brock’s bedroom door. Jane looked. Darcy had come out of the bedroom. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that said _Beat Army._

“Guys, what’s going on?” Darcy said.

“Your brother’s leaving,” Brock said.

“Yes, I am,” Dave said. “I’ll get our bags.” He disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door with an audible thump. Brock swore, crossing his arms.

“Nobody wants coffee?” Sheila asked, panicking. "Not at all?"

“I would not mind coffee,” Thor said, clearly trying to alleviate her distress.

“Okay,” Sheila said. "Okay. Coffee. How do I work this machine? Wait, I got it."

“Can somebody tell me what’s going on?” Darcy repeated. “Jane, why are you making that face?” 

“Dave doesn’t think I’m good enough for you,” Brock said.

“He doesn’t really mean it,” Sheila said. She’d just handed a coffee to Thor. “If we just all sit down and talk--”

“Good enough how?” Darcy asked, frowning.

“He thought we spent the night together,” Brock said. “Last night.”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, looking mortified. She covered her hands with her face. “Oh my God.”

“It’s okay,” Brock said, swallowing. He made to reach for her, then dropped his hands.

“I--I need to talk to him,” Darcy said, squaring her shoulders. She stepped around Brock and marched into the bedroom.

* * *

Darcy was confused--and mortified. She shut the door and looked at Dave’s tense back. He was tossing clothes into his bag. “I’m getting my shit,” Dave said, clearly assuming it was Brock.

“What are you doing?” Darcy asked her brother. Dave stopped and turned. To her surprise, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Darce,” he said. “You okay?”

“Why are you fighting with Brock about--about me?” she said. Dave’s smile grew wider. 

“I’m trying to help you here. He needed a little shove,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” she said.

“You’re both so damn smart,” he said in a low voice. “How is it that neither of you have heard of reverse psychology?”

“Oh my God!” Darcy said. “You can’t--”

“Shhh,” Dave said. “It don’t work if he hears me, Kiddo.”

“Goddammit, Dave!” Darcy said, feeling genuinely irritated.

“That’s good, keep doing that,” Dave said, winking. He grabbed the bag and opened the door. “Sheila, let’s go!” he barked. Darcy heard Sheila's voice in the kitchen.

"I really think you should apologize and have coffee," Sheila scolded. "We need to talk about things, Dave--"


	5. Dave, You Dumbass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! This is the apple cider vinegar story, for those who missed it: https://cheezburger.com/10247941/insufferable-hipster-dude-ruins-party-in-this-hilarious-twitter-thread

“You’re just running out, huh?” Darcy heard Brock say to Dave as she followed on his heels.

“No,” Darcy said bluntly. “Shut up and sit down! Both of you.” She was using her sternest voice, the one she typically reserved for making Jane sleep. Brock turned in surprise.

“What?” he said. When Dave turned around, Darcy saw the corners of his mouth go up a fraction.

“You two assholes are going to sit down and apologize to each other, right now,” Darcy said, putting her hands on her hips.

“I think they should also apologize to you,” Sheila said tentatively.

“Good point. Thank you, Sheila,” Darcy said. “Everyone sit down.” They pulled chairs out and sat down awkwardly. To Darcy’s surprise, Brock picked the chair next to hers. Then he proceeded to stare at Dave. Darcy rolled her eyes. “Someone apologize.”

“I’m sorry for losing my temper with you,” Dave said to Brock. There was a moment of silence. Thor and Jane were leaning against the kitchen counter, watching avidly. They had coffee. 

“This is good coffee,” Thor said, smiling gently at Sheila across Brock’s table. 

“It is,” Jane seconded. 

“Thank you,” Sheila said. “I can make everybody some?”

“That would be great,” Darcy said. She looked at Brock. “And?” she said pointedly.

“I’m not fucking apologizing. He didn’t lose his temper,” Brock said, sounding edgy. He crossed his arms and looked stubborn. “He’s being a dick.”

“Okay. So, you’re providing us with an illustration of someone losing their temper and being childish?” Darcy asked.

“I’m not childish,” Brock insisted. “He insulted me and he’s treating you like a child.” He visibly pouted. Darcy had never seen Brock pout, but the lip curl was oddly sexy. In a duckface sort of way. She was afraid if she looked at Dave, she might actually laugh.

“Dave knows what he did and that I’m unhappy about it,” Darcy said sharply. Dave was taking his first sip of coffee, but she could swear she saw the gleam of mirth in his eyes. He lowered the cup.

“I’m real sorry, Darce,” Dave said with mock-solemnity. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to start a fight.”

“You just assumed something had happened between us and lost your shit,” Brock said. “He completely lost it,” he told Darcy.

“You should apologize for that, too,” she told Dave.

“I’m sorry,” Dave repeated. Darcy stood up to fetch her coffee from Sheila. She was moving--nerves jangling, body tense--around the table when the debate kept going. “Well, I mean, look at the situation,” Dave said suddenly. “You can’t give Darcy what she wants.”

“Excuse me?” Darcy said.

“Dave, what are you _doing?”_ Sheila asked.

“She was ready to marry Ian,” Dave said. “She wants to settle down, Brock. You’re not there--maybe you’ll never be there.”

“I could be there,” Brock said, sounding flinty.

“Yeah, right,” Dave said. “You’re gonna, what? Give up your lifestyle for a relationship with Darcy? Last night you were telling stories about making margaritas and running out of clean glasses and drinking out of a damn measuring cup?”

“It was after a party--and three years ago,” Brock said defensively.

“She didn’t do stuff like that three years ago and she doesn’t want that guy now!” Dave said. “She’s well past that phase of her life, if she was ever in that phase in the first place. She’s always been responsible.”

“I know that,” Brock said. His expression was serious. “I know that.” His eyes darted to Darcy. 

“Um, hellloooo,” Darcy said. “I get to decide where I am! I’m an adult, Dave.” She looked at him, trying to telegraph her need for him to shut up. “Calm down. This is embarrassing,” she said. She was afraid he would push some button with Brock that would freak him out. He looked freaked out now. “Do you understand that I want you to _shut up?”_ Darcy said.

“All right,” Dave said. 

“We should go get breakfast,” Darcy said. “I’m going to change.”

“Okay,” Jane said quickly.

“Okay,” Thor said.

“Oh thank God,” Sheila said. 

* * *

Darcy was sitting on the bed and putting her boots on when someone knocked. “Come in,” she said. It was Brock. He was grimacing.

“Hey,” he said. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Darcy said, striving to sound definite and decisive. “It’s embarrassing, but I’ll straighten Dave out. He’s not still being obnoxious, is he?” she asked.

“No,” Brock said. He looked...odd. He sighed, half-turning his head, as if he didn’t want to speak, but lingered in the room. She looked at his feet. He was shifting his weight back and forth.

“How freaked out are you right now?” Darcy said, trying to cut the tension. 

“I’m not freaked out--I’m not,” he stammered. “I came to check on you.”

“I’m okay,” Darcy said. She was not okay. She was internally panicking, but holding it all in.

“You’re sure?” he said, frowning. “I’ve never heard you yell like that.” He took a step closer to her.

“What?” Darcy asked, surprised.

“You were angry at Dave,” Brock said, taking another step forward. “So, I thought maybe you were mad at me--”

“I’m not upset with you,” Darcy said. 

“No?” he said.

“Are you upset?” she asked.

“No,” Brock said. “Lemme help you.” He dropped to his knees and cupped her calf. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, as he zipped her boot up. She was so nervous, she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he said. He sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” His hand was still on her leg. He stroked the back of her boot gently. “Is there anything--” Brock said.

“We’ll go to breakfast,” Darcy said, determined to keep everything normal. She wanted normalcy between her and Brock, especially since they’d be working together. He dropped his hand. He stood, looking reluctant. Then he turned towards the door. “Brock?” Darcy said.

“Yeah?” he turned back.

“It might be--” she hesitated-- “easier for me if you stopped showing people photos of me eating Dave’s graduation cake at work and stuff,” Darcy said slowly. “I want people to take me seriously as Jane’s assistant. I don’t want to be a joke. She’s doing important things and if I’m the Mouse--”

“People take you seriously,” Brock said. “You’re not a joke. I promise you, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, exhaling nervously. She’d looked at her hands in her lap. She realized he’d moved back over to her side and looked up, startled.

“M--Darcy,” Brock said, “Darcy.”

“Yeah?” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so squeaky.

“You’re not a joke,” he said. “Nobody thinks you’re a joke.”

“Good,” she said.

“If anybody says anything--” Brock said. “I’ll sort ‘em out.”

* * *

“I’m getting a mimosa,” Sheila announced, when they got to the restaurant. It was one of those places that did brunch. 

“Great plan,” Darcy said. Jane and Thor nodded. “Let’s all get one.” The four of them ordered mimosas. 

“I’ll drive,” Brock said, declining a drink and ordering water. He’d sat next to Darcy.

“Thank you,” she said politely, trying to be normal. Dave looked at them and tilted his head. Darcy felt like he was studying them. “What?” she said.

“It’s nothing,” Dave said. “Just a thought, nothing for you to worry about.” He grinned at Darcy. She narrowed her eyes and pulled a face at him.

“Don’t upset Darcy,” Brock said, not looking up from his menu.

“Do you remember the story about the guy who put apple cider vinegar in the mimosas?” Sheila said.

“Oh my God, yes,” Jane said. “Darce, where’d you see that?” 

“It was on Twitter,” Darcy said, grateful for the distraction.

“The guy who did what?” Brock said. They had to explain the whole story to him, but it shifted the mood at the table. Darcy was relieved. It let her concentrate on her pecan waffles. Jane mentioned something about Darcy’s habit of doing “cupcake crawls” whenever they were in cities with good bakeries. 

“We’ve got to find the best bakeries in DC,” Darcy said.

“I can ask around,” Brock said. “You need more syrup?” He held up the bottle.

“Thanks,” Darcy said, smiling at him. That was when she realized Dave was grinning at them. “Dave,” Darcy said. “I’m just eating a waffle. Don’t be a jerk.”

“I know, honey,” Dave said. He leaned back, munching on a piece of bacon, and looked crafty. “And you’re good, real happy at this kind of thing, this is your kinda Saturday, but him? C’mon.”

“What’s that mean?” Brock said.

“You’re not domesticated,” Dave said jokingly. “You aren’t made for being married. She is. Darce is domestic. She’s perfectly happy going to brunch, with her podcasts, reading books, stuff like that. That’s not you, man. You’ve got nothing in common.” 

“I read,” Brock said stubbornly. He gestured aggressively. “We read. Both of us. We’ve got plenty in common.”

“Okay, sure,” Dave said. “You’ve got a few things in a common.” Darcy was too horrified to speak. Sheila was staring, open-mouthed, omelet fork mid-air. Jane’s eyebrows were near her hairline and she was frowning. Only Thor was eating. He’d begun nodding along when Brock started talking and smiled brightly at Darcy. 

“More than a few,” Brock said. “We--she makes me all my gym playlists.” His voice was oddly frustrated.

“I do?” Darcy said, surprised. “All of them?”

“Yeah,” Brock said, reaching over and squeezing her arm. “And we watch the same movies and read the same books. Have for years. It’s not that we don’t have things in common.”

“That right?” Dave said. “So, you’re happy going on her and Jane’s cupcake tours of DC?”

“I just said I’d fucking ask around, Dave,” Brock said in a low voice. Dave had lit up a little. Darcy had never wanted to murder him more in her life, even the time he’d saran-wrapped her toilet seat. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dave said.

“You’re being an asshole.” Sheila hissed. 

“I’m just trying to figure out the hold up,” Dave said, holding a triangle of toast casually. “If you’re ready to settle down and you’ve got plenty in common? You worried Liz don’t like you?” he asked.

“She likes me more than she liked you!” Brock interjected. “Always.”

“You’re saying you’re my stepmom’s favorite?” Dave said. “You?”

“She does like him,” Darcy said, irritated. 

“Liz used to ask me to hang around because you were irresponsible,” Brock said angrily. “Who gave her nightmares, showing her _Halloween_ and _Fright Night?”_

“You’re still on that?” Dave said. “It was twenty years ago!”

“She woke up sobbing,” Brock said. Abruptly, he shut his mouth and stood up.

“Brock? Are you okay?” Darcy said. He’d gone a little pale. “Where are you going?” Darcy asked, worried.

“I need a minute,” Brock said. They watched him leave. 

“Shit,” Darcy said.

“What are you _doing?”_ Sheila asked Dave, expression horrified.

“I’m trying to get them together!” Dave said. “We were making progress!”

“You think that looks like progress?” Jane said, looking at him as if he was insane. Darcy was fairly sure that was the same look she’d given Coulson when he came for her stuff.

“He’s saying he could settle down and that they have things in common,” Dave said. “He’s thinking about them as a couple! That’s progress.”

“And then he ran out of the room,” Darcy said, feeling sad. “Oh God. The idea of being with me makes him want to flee the premises.”

“That can’t possibly be it,” Sheila said.

"What else could it be?" Darcy said.

“It will be all right,” Thor said, offering her a refill of her mimosa. 

“You’re doing a heckuva job, Dave,” Sheila said sarcastically. “You dumbass.” 

“At least I’m trying!” Dave said. 

“What does that mean?” Darcy said. 

“You could, I dunno, flirt a little?” Dave said, raking a hand through his hair. “Those sweatpants you were sleeping in last night ain’t gonna do the work for you, Darce.”

“Oh my God,” Sheila said. “Can you be more of a dumbass big brother right now?” She waved her champagne flute. “This is not the plan we discussed!”

“You discussed a plan?” Darcy said.

“Well,” Sheila said, hands at her temples, “my idea was to get you both at Fallon’s wedding. Weddings are romantic--”

“Men don’t think weddings are romantic,” Dave scoffed.

“I’m ignoring that,” Sheila said. “Fallon and I talked about making sure you had a flattering outfit--”

“He's going to ask her to be his date,” Dave said, as if he’d done something impressive.

“He asked me last night,” Darcy said. “You’ve probably frightened that impulse away now--”

“Shhh, here he is!” Jane said. “Everybody hush!” Brock was coming back inside the restaurant. Darcy sighed.

“Act normal, act normal,” Sheila said anxiously. Thor nodded as Dave snagged a piece of bacon

“You’re waving your arms in the air,” Dave told Sheila.

“I’m really pissed at you,” Darcy told her brother, glaring, as Brock got closer. “Someone give me more mimosa.” She was sipping as Brock sat down with a thunk. He looked at the table.

“I--” he said, then abruptly shut his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Darcy asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s just eat.” He did not look okay. He looked miserable. Darcy’s heart sank.

  
  



	6. Are We Going Somewhere Fun? Or Nah?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy got up and went to the bathroom. She was coming out of the ladies’ room when she met Brock. They almost collided. “Oh,” she said. “Hi.” She felt stupid. Brock looked strange.

“I was just--” he said. He’d come out of the adjoining mens’ room.

“I’m sorry about Dave, he’s being...a dick,” Darcy said. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said, frowning. “I, uh, just kept thinking about when you were little and he scared you with horror movies,” Brock said, stepping closer to her. “You came running to me.”

“I did,” Darcy said. She looked up at him and smiled widely. “I knew you would fix things. You always tried to keep Dave in line,” she said.

“You’re smiling,” Brock said. “Why’s that funny?” 

“My mom still talks about how you made Dave quit smoking for me,” she said.

“Liz knew?” he said, evidently surprised. Darcy nodded.

“Clothes smell like smoke, Brock. It’s pretty freaking obvious if you don’t smoke,” she said. “You’d told her _you_ were quitting. She tried to make him quit, but he only listened to you. We always wondered how you did it?”

“It was a pain in the ass,” Brock said. “I just fucking stole his cigarettes all the time. Right out of his jackets. That’s when I learned to lift things.”

“You learned to steal because of me?” Darcy said, grinning and leaning forward automatically.

“Only cigarettes, Mouse,” he said. Their faces were close. “The bigger stuff came later. That wasn’t your fault.”

“Sure,” Darcy said. “I just got you started on a life of deceit!” She laughed. Her eyes drifted down to his t-shirt. When she glanced back up, he was looking at her intently.

“Darcy,” he said.

“Yes?” she said, desperately, stupidly wanting to kiss him. For a second, she thought he was thinking the same thing. She couldn’t help it: she grinned, feeling breathless and giddy with anticipation. “I think--” she said.

“Yeah?” he said. They both leaned closer.

“Should we--” Darcy said, intending to say _ditch everybody,_ but then a woman came out of the bathroom behind her.

“Excuse me,” the woman said.

“Sorry,” Darcy said apologetically, stepping aside. The woman stared at Brock. Darcy realized she was staring at his scars. “I’m sorry?” Darcy repeated, making her voice edgier. “Did you _need_ something, _ma’am?”_ she asked, putting the same emphasis on the last word as if she’d said _bitch_ instead _._

“Darcy,” Brock said, evidently surprised. 

“No,” the woman stuttered. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said icily, dead-eyeing the woman until she walked away. Then she huffed and looked at Brock. He was looking at her seriously.

“Mouse,” Brock said, “that’s not like you.”

“I’m not letting her get away with that,” Darcy insisted. He tilted his head, face going curious. “You think I would let someone be rude to you?” she said stubbornly.

“No, but---uh, I don’t know,” he said, grinning sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head. It dawned on Darcy.

“You think I’m a pushover,” Darcy said, amused. She’d wanted to kiss him, but they’d missed the moment and now she almost wanted to giggle.

“No--no,” he said. “Not a pushover, just maybe easy going?”

“Easy going?” Darcy said dubiously. He scrunched his nose and made a face. 

“I mean, maybe?” Brock said.

“You do think I’m a pushover. I knew it!” Darcy said, feeling gleeful. They walked back to the table together. “You think I’m some squishy little marshmallow!” she added. “I tased Thor.” She looked at the table. Brock followed her gaze. Thor was happily eating some bread from the basket at the next table as the occupants chatted with him and Jane.

“He’s not a….small guy,” Brock said, frowning. 

“That would be why I tased him,” Darcy said. She stopped a few feet from the table and put her hand on Brock’s arm. “You wanna lift Dave’s wallet? Make him pay for lunch?” she whispered.

“Nah,” Brock said, smiling. “I could do it, though.”

“There they are,” Jane said, turning and seeing them. “We thought you’d left us here.”

“I was tempted, but Brock said no,” Darcy said, grinning. He looked at her in surprise--and amusement.

“Why don’t we go somewhere fun?” Sheila asked. “I want to go somewhere fun. Where’s somewhere fun?” 

“Brock?” Darcy said. “Somewhere fun?”

* * *

“Ahhhhh!” Sheila shrieked, as she rolled past Darcy and Brock at the edge of the rink. Sheila was hanging onto Thor’s cloak as he and Jane dared each other to speed-skate across the ice. Darcy looked at Brock. 

“Jane’s very competitive,” she said, “so we should watch out for near-crashes.”

“You can hang onto me,” Brock said. Darcy already was--she’d been clinging to him since she put on the skates. She wasn’t trying to flirt. Icy sidewalks in London were enough to send her into a panic; she’d had a rough fall carrying Jane’s stuff, gotten the air knocked out of her lungs, and had to be picked up by a woman outside a library. Totally embarrassing. She did not want to fall in front of Brock.

“This was your idea,” Darcy said to him. “I’m just going to keep saying that.” A bruised Dave sat along the opposite side of the indoor rink. He raised his beer in greeting as they stepped out onto the ice. Darcy had to force herself to put her foot down. It hovered in mid-air for a long moment before she put it down carefully.

“I gotcha, baby,” Brock said, when her grip tightened. He had her elbow in one hand and an arm tightly around her waist. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. They skated slowly and gingerly. Darcy started to relax--and actually have fun. They stayed at one end of the rink and he let her get comfortable before they sped up. She’d done several circles of increasing speed when she thought of something. “Oh my God, we need to talk about Tonya Harding,” Darcy said suddenly.

“What?” Brock said. 

“You remember her, right?” Darcy said.

“Yeah, kneecapped the other chick. Corrigan?”

“Nancy Kerrigan, but so not the point,” Darcy said. “It was her dumb husband who came up with that idea. I read this phenomenal essay in _The Believer_ by Sarah Marshall, the woman who wrote the really good one I sent you about Anna Nicole Smith--”

“Does she only write about blondes?” Brock asked, smirking.

“You hush, she’s amazing. I love her,” Darcy said with a sigh of envy. “I wish I could write like that--”

“Mouse, you’re a great writer,” he put in stubbornly.

“Not like this! Anyway, what I didn’t know is that Tonya Harding can do this move that only, like, one other woman in skating history can actually do--you have to be super strong and it’s only been done in competition a handful of times. Usually only men can do it, Brock! So, she’s this legitimately amazing talent, but she skated to 'Wild Thing' and the _Jurassic Park_ theme song, so she wasn’t considered 'ladylike',” Darcy said, doing air quotes. She wobbled precariously in her enthusiasm and he grabbed her. “Thank you.”

“The dinosaur movie?” he said, arm around her waist.

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “It’s totally fascinating. You can watch the videos on Youtube. She had talent, but she was just too-- _too much,_ you know? Too trashy, too athletic, too pushy, even before the attack. She lived in trailer parks and liked to fix cars and they were always saying she was gaining weight, even when she doesn’t look out of shape at all,” Darcy mused. “But Nancy Kerrigan had the better image. It’s amazing how much of all that was about being willowy and princessy, not athletic merit. It’s not even that Kerrigan wasn’t a good skater, it’s that she looked like how people thought a skater _should_ look. Why is so much of life about that?” she wondered with a sigh.

“Yeah,” he said, looking oddly puzzled.

“I think I just lost you in a feminist rant, didn’t I?” she said.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m listening.” But Darcy felt skeptical. 

“It’s like if Cameron Klein was the most gifted STRIKE commander in history, but everybody thought you looked more like one,” Darcy said. He smirked slowly. That smirk was the tell that he was going to say something snarky, she knew.

“You don’t think I look like a good STRIKE commander?” Brock said.

“Pffhhht,” Darcy said, wobbling again. 

“You wanna go in?” he said. “Show me Tonya Harding’s fancy move--what’s it called?”

“It’s a triple something, I forget what,” Darcy said, sniffling. “Yes. Is my nose red?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. They met Dave going back out onto the ice as they climbed out of the rink. 

“I think Thor just stole my wife,” he said wryly. Darcy looked over. Thor was holding Sheila up in the air as he completed languid loops at the opposite end of the rink. 

“Hey!” Darcy yelled, waving. Then she lost her balance a little and Brock grabbed her waist so she wouldn’t tip over backwards.

“This is amazinggggggg!” Sheila shouted at them, waving her arms.

“Awesome!” Darcy yelled back. 

“Where’s Jane?” Brock asked Dave.

“I believe she’s carbing up for her jumps,” Dave said, pointing with his thumb. Jane was buying pretzels from the rink’s concession stand.

“Let’s get you one,” Brock said.

“Okay,” Darcy said happily. She loved hot pretzels. “But you’ve got to see Tonya skate.”

“Sure,” Brock said. He had her happily situated with a pretzel and coffee at the edge of the rink and had watched Tonya Harding do a triple axel when Brock looked at Darcy. “Still thinking about grad school?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, tearing off a bit of cinnamon-sugar pretzel. “But I can’t decide what would be best to do--political science like I did before? Something to be helpful with my job?”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Right now?” Darcy said. “I think if I really wanted to make people happy, I’d learn to make hot pretzels.” He shook his head. “What?” Darcy said, licking her fingers. “Remember when I got so obsessed with _Stranger than Fiction_ and told everyone I wanted to make people happier with cupcakes?”

“You don’t--it’s not about what other people want, M--Darcy, it’s about what you want,” Brock said. Darcy smiled at him.

“I don’t mind if you call me Mouse when it’s just us,” Darcy said softly. 

“Yeah?” Brock said, expression lightening. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope,” she said, “not when it’s just you and me.” She ate another piece of pretzel and cut her eyes at him, feeling nervous. “What bothered you today?” Darcy said, finally daring to ask the question that had been in the back of her mind all afternoon.

“I, uh--” he said. “Something Dave said. I just thought about you being little.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Well.” She shrugged.

“What?” he said.

“I’m not little anymore. I’m practically an old broad at this point,” Darcy said. She wiggled her eyebrows. “At least a dame of mature years,” she cracked.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said, clearly amused. “Sure, Mouse. You’re ancient.”

“I have my one grey hair,” Darcy said, scrunching her nose. She thought for a moment. “I do really like pretzels, though.” Brock burst out laughing.

“Mouse, I don’t know where you get these things, but I lo--” he said, his laughter dying away abruptly. He swallowed. “--love you,” he said, then looked absolutely petrified. He was staring straight ahead like a man trapped in oncoming traffic. “Uhhh,” he said, blinking. “I mean,” he began. For a long moment, Darcy just looked at him, equally horrified. 

“Brock,” Darcy said, feeling herself cringe, but squashing the feeling of misery and disappointment down. “It’s okay. I understand what you mean.” She realized Dave was skating towards them and in a panic, said the first thing she could think of. “You love me just like Dave does,” Darcy said nervously.

“Yeah,” Brock said. He frowned. “No. I mean--”

“Hey,” Dave said, skating up to them. “How are the pretzels?”

“Really good,” Darcy said, trying to sound bright and normal.

“I’m gonna get one,” Dave said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “I’ll get one.” He stood up.

“You don’t eat hot pretzels,” Dave said. Darcy stared.

“I--sometimes, I do,” Brock said. “I eat pretzels.” It was completely clear that he didn’t want to be around her, Darcy thought. She smiled weakly. 

“Go have a pretzel, Brock-oli. Have some fun,” she said. “Carbs are fun, I keep telling you.”

“Yeah,” Brock said. He moved towards the concession. Dave stared at his retreating back, clearly stunned.

“Since when does he eat fucking hot pretzels?” Dave wondered. Darcy shrugged and tried to act normal. She could tell Jane, she thought. Jane would listen to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah Marshall's writing is SO good (yes, she is a real writer): https://believermag.com/remote-control/


	7. Have A Good Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“He said _I love you?”_ Jane said, washing her hands. Darcy had followed Jane into the bathroom and told her about Brock’s freak out. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Nooooo,” Darcy said. “Not good. Not good at all. He bought a hot pretzel!”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Jane said.

“Janey, the man hasn’t had a food court snack since I was in middle school,” Darcy said. “He’s panic eating or something.” She sighed. “It’s me. I make him crazy.”

“You can’t possibly make someone crazy,” Jane said. “That’s not a thing.”

“Trust me, it’s bad,” Darcy said. “Bad.” They walked out. Dave and Sheila were skating, Thor was signing autographs in the pretzel line, and Brock was sitting by himself on the seats at the edge of the rink. He looked up when Jane spoke to Thor.

“Hey,” he said, “come eat this pretzel.”

“Me?” Darcy said, voice squeaky.

“Yeah,” he said, sighing and gesturing with the pretzel. “I dunno what I was thinking, I don’t eat pretzels.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, feeling dubious. She sat down gingerly. He passed her the pretzel. He’d clearly eaten a few bites. She looked at it and back at him. “I can’t believe you ate this many _carbs!”_ she teased, emphasizing the word carbs like she was doing a horror movie trailer. “Carbssss!” she repeated, when he squinted at her. She took a bite: the garlic was delicious. “Mmmm,” she said. It was still warm. 

“Stop teasing me,” Brock said. He glanced over. “Fal texted, she’s excited that you’re coming to the wedding with me. She wants Thor and Jane to come, too.”

“Great,” Darcy said. Then she frowned. “You still want me to go with you, right?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Of course.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, confused. 

“Good,” he said, looking relieved.

“Just keep buying me pretzels and I’ll go to anybody’s wedding,” she joked, trying to end any tension. “Fallon’s, yours, your mom if she marries Rollins--” Darcy said.

“Excuse me?” Brock said, visibly startled.

“He’s very cute and tall,” Darcy said, “and your mom is a very attractive woman.” Mrs. Rumlow was a widow. Darcy wondered if she was dating.

“They’re not--no,” Brock said. He sighed. 

“What’s wrong with Jack as a stepfather? I bet he’d play catch with you,” Darcy said. “Be great at Christmas, maybe buy you one of those tan hats all Australian dudes on the TV wear.”

“Very funny, Mouse,” Brock said. He sighed, rubbed his jaw, and sighed again. “I’m, uh--I never thought about getting married,” he added. _Uh-oh,_ Darcy thought. _He’s trying to tell me something. Okay. Okay._

“Yeah?” Darcy said. She took a deep breath, trying to sort out how to tell a lie to Brock. She’d never lied to Brock, never _wanted_ to lie to Brock. Something in her chest hurt. “Dave’s wrong, by the way. I wasn’t that interested in getting married, but Ian asked, so I felt like if I said no, he’d be upset. I wasn’t looking for that.”

“Oh,” Brock said. His face was doing a strange thing, but Darcy soldiered on. 

“I’m not even sure I want to date for awhile,” she said, carefully not looking at him. “I’m thinking of taking a break. Reclaiming my time.” 

“Did you just make a Congressional hearings joke?” Brock said, frowning.

“That’s the best kind of joke,” Darcy said, relieved to be skating away from the thin ice of their conversation. “Did you want me to do my Brett Kavanaugh impression?” She grinned at him and he slowly smiled back. As he was smiling at her, Jane sat down on Darcy’s other side. Brock leaned out to talk to her. 

“Jane, does Darcy do a good Kavanaugh?” he asked.

“Oh God,” Jane said. “She just yells “I like beer!” and makes weird faces.”

“My Kavanaugh is really good,” Darcy insisted. “Originally, it was my lab ID face, just for laughs. And I was going to do it in the mugshot if I was ever arrested at a protest. I think he totally stole _my_ face.”

“She looks like she’s hissing like a possum,” Jane said.

“It’s true,” Darcy said, nodding. She demonstrated, scrunching her nose and baring her teeth. Brock laughed so hard he had to cover his face. “It’s good, right?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, dragging his fingers over his cheekbones and shaking his head. She could still see his grin, though, and that made her feel like they were back on solid ground again.

“If I had after-work gym access at SHIELD, I would totally put a doily around my neck and do a Ruth Bader Ginsburg selfie with the weight bench,” Darcy added. 

“I’ll get you in,” Brock said.

“Oooh, a break in?” she said, lighting up.

“She’s going to make a lot of Watergate jokes,” Jane said.

“I was really stunned that the Watergate building is so ugly,” Darcy said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I had no idea that you wanted to know that?” Brock said, leaning over and snagging a chunk of pretzel. Darcy stared.

“You thief!” she said.

“You started me on a life of crime, remember?” he said. She shook her head.

“Not of snacks! Mine, all mine,” she joked, leaning away from him. She almost leaned into Jane’s face with the pretzel.

“Hey, no garlic in my face,” Jane complained.

“Excuse me, philistine, garlic is wonderful,” Darcy said.

“This is why my mother always loved her,” Brock said, “she loves Ma’s cooking.”

“She makes this Sicilian pesto from scratch that is incredible,” Darcy said. “It has pistachios. She crushes it by hand.”

“I think she just likes to whack things,” Brock said.

“That doesn’t sound like anybody I know,” Darcy said. She looked at Jane. “Did I tell that you that he used to take me to his boxing gym when I was little?”

“Really?” Jane said.

“I tried to get her to box, but she just sat in the corner and read Nancy Drew,” Brock said.

“When he and Dave took me hunting, they said I made too much noise,” Darcy said.

“She made little piles of leaves and sat on them,” Brock said. He laughed, then sighed. 

“This is still my attitude to camping,” Darcy said. “I want chairs and bathrooms and a Starbucks.”

* * *

“Bye, Kiddo,” Dave said, as she stood by his car. They’d all gone back to Brock’s. He and Sheila were driving home. He hugged Darcy gently.

“I see how it is,” Darcy said. “You show up here, make a big scene about my love life, and you take my fun Sheila!” She grinned at him. Sheila leaned out of the car’s window. Darcy had already hugged her twice.

“I don’t want to go, but someone has golf!” she said. “Ahhhnnt, boring!”

“Booooo,” Darcy said, joined by Sheila. “Boooo, old man sports!”

“I am an old man,” Dave said, scoffing. “I gotta do my old man things--”

“I wish he wanted to party and work on his dad bod,” Sheila complained, as Brock came out of the house and yelled something.

“Hey, you leavin?” Brock said.

“Yeah,” Dave called. “I got golf in the morning.”

“Convince him to stay!” Sheila yelled. 

“Golf?” Brock asked, sounding amused.

“Booooo,” Darcy said. She was startled when she felt Brock’s hands on her shoulders. He kneaded her back as she stood there, feeling oddly flustered. Dave had grinned widely.

“You could stay,” Brock said.

“I really gotta go, man,” Dave said. Darcy felt his hands drop away and Brock moved around her to hug Dave and then Sheila. They said their goodbyes.

“Drive safe, idiots,” Darcy yelled, as the car pulled out of the driveway. She looked at Brock. “Miss him yet?” she asked.

“Hell, no,” Brock said, clearly lying. They walked back towards the front door. She felt confident that she’d handled Dave’s big brother meddling okay, despite Brock’s rinkside panic...whatever it was. Pretzel panic attack? It was all going to be fine, Darcy thought. Totally fine. They’d got it sorted and now Dave was headed home. She smiled to herself. “Hey,” Brock said, as they made it to the front door. “Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow? Just us,” he said. “We can talk about Fal’s wedding stuff.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, confused. “Sure.” _Well,_ she thought, _what the heck is going on?_

* * *

“Hey, mate,” Jack said, passing Brock in SHIELD’s gym. It was Sunday, but it wasn’t unusual for the STRIKE team members to be in the gym on weekends. “Your houseguests still in town?” he asked.

“Dave and Sheila left yesterday,” Brock said. He hefted a dumbbell into a bicep curl.

“They were, uh, pretty blotto,” Jack said.

“Blotto?” Brock asked.

“Drunk?” Jack said. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Brock said, grinning. “Those two are worse sober. Sheila had Thor slinging her ass around an ice rink yesterday.”

“You went ice skating?” Jack said, sounding dubious.

“I ice skate,” Brock said. 

“You want to get a drink after this?” Jack said, loading up a barbell with weights.

“I’ve got some, uh, recon to do,” Brock said.

“Recon?” Jack said. “I didn’t see Hill’s paperwork.”

“This is a personal thing,” Brock said. “Personal recon.”

“What in bloody hell is personal recon?” Jack asked. But Brock refused to say anything more. He just shook his head and looked serious. When he left, Jack looked at Hernandez quizzically.

“You know it’s something about Darcy, Rollins,” Hernandez said, grinning. “What else could it be?”

“How do you do recon on a woman?” Rollins said wonderingly.

“Maybe you do recon on something the woman wants,” Chen said casually.

“Like what?” Jack said.

“Jewelry?” Evans said, groaning under his weights. At the same time, Hernandez spoke.

“A dog,” she said, more definitively. 

“A dog,” Jack said. “Are they even dating?” Hernandez shrugged.

“She wants a dog,” she said. “Maybe he’s getting her a dog?”

  
  


* * *

“I don’t know why he wants to have dinner with me alone,” Darcy said to Jane. She was getting dressed. “Fun red shirt with the polka dots or fun blue shirt that says _Blinded by Science?”_ Darcy asked.

“Polka dots,” Jane opined. “That shirt looks great on you.”

“Okay, fine, I see you trying to make me be cuter, but I’m totally being a nerd and wearing my new _Night Circus_ pin on my jacket,” she drawled. “The point is to reassure him that we’re cool, not show off my boobs.”

“Cool, huh?” Jane said.

“Pfffhhhht,” Darcy said. “This is not a date.” The doorbell rang.

“He’s picking you up?” Jane squealed. “It’s not a date, but he’s picking you up?”

“Shut up, shut up, talk to him while I put on pants,” Darcy said. “He probably wants to give me a serious talk about how out of control Dave is or something.” She tromped into her bedroom to find leggings. She was wiggling into them when she heard Jane answer the front door. To her surprise, there was a knock a few moments later.

“You decent?” Brock said through her bedroom door. She could tell he was joking.

“Never!” Darcy called. “But come inside!” He stuck his head in, saw she was dressed, and stepped into the room. 

“Hey,” Brock said. She caught him eyeing her bedroom furniture. She and Jane had a motley collection of furniture that they gave away or added to as they schlepped to various observatories. Darcy was currently living with a nightstand from Goodwill that she’d painted turquoise and several pieces from home, like her childhood dresser, retrieved from her mom and Dave’s dad’s house in Virginia.

“I just need socks and shoes,” she told him. “Why are you making that face?”

“I remember that, but it wasn’t that color, right?” Brock said. He meant her dresser. She’d painted it a shiny sapphire blue, streaked with purple. Thor had helped her sand the thing.

“I just did that and I’m very proud of it. We’re calling it “Northern Lights” colors,” Darcy told him, knowing he was teasing her. 

“That’s great, Mouse,” he said. “You did that yourself?”

“Thor and Jane helped, too,” Darcy said, flummoxed by his tone. He actually looked impressed?

“You could sell those,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, grinning. “Lemme get socks.” One of the inexpensive, travel ready things she collected was socks. She kept them in a hanging shoe tree on the back of her closet door, so she could see the socks in the clear shoe sleeves and pick a sock of day. “Pancakes or coffee socks?” she asked Brock. She had a yellow pair, printed with pancakes, and a teal and black set with coffee cups and to-go cups. She realized he was still looking at the dresser. “Brock?” she repeated. “Coffee or pancakes?” She held each sock up.

“Coffee?” he said dubiously.

“Good call,” Darcy said, returning the pancake-themed pair to the slots. “Yeah, I’m keeping that dresser, when we move again. My mom can hang onto it for me,” she added. 

“You’re moving? You just got here,” Brock said, sounding alarmed. Darcy looked at him in surprise as she sat on the bed to put her socks on.

“I’m sure we’ll be here a little while, but Jane gets bored, so I’m always ready for surprise moves. I travel light,” she joked. “Jane gets all these job offers and it lets me see the world.” He was frowning. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Hey, I’ll do that.”

“Huh?” Darcy said, as he took the socks out of her and knelt at her feet. “You’re putting my socks on?” She grinned as he slid one sock on her foot. It tickled a little; there were callouses and scars on his burned fingers. “Okay, that’s not odd or anything,” she told him.

“You don’t remember that I worked at that fucking shoe store?” Brock said, grinning up at her. His scars twisted.

“Ohhhh, yeah, right,” Darcy said as he rubbed the back of her ankle for a moment and then switched to the other foot. It had been his high school job, she remembered. “By the way, making salespeople put other people’s shoes on is completely weird. I always put my own shoes on.” He was reaching for her boots when he looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

“Sure, Mouse,” he said. 

“What?” Darcy said.

“That is a fucking lie,” he told her. “One”--he held up an index finger--”it took you forever to learn how to tie your shoes, I got you those little clip things so they’d stay tied all day, and two”--he ticked off a second finger-- “you always wanted me to do it, if I was around.”

“Shit,” Darcy said. “I forgot that.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, zipping one of her boots.

“Wait, did you buy those Snoopy lace holders that are in all my old photos?” Darcy asked. 

“Probably, yeah,” he said. “I got an employee discount.” He stood up. 

“Did you ever buy me socks?” she wondered, heartbeat speeding up.

“I dunno,” Brock said, shrugging, “maybe? If you wanted them, I would have. Why?”

“No reason,” she said, unwilling to voice the thought that had just occurred to her: _did she love socks because she’d associated them with him, deep in the recesses of her memory?_

“You ready?” Brock asked.

“Yeah,” she said, following him out of the bedroom. Jane was sitting on the couch. “If you need anything, call--call me,” Darcy said, stuttering. Brock had taken her hand, mid-sentence and was now rolling his thumb over her knuckles gently. “Okay?” Darcy added.

“Sure,” Jane said. There was a gleam in her eyes. “You guys have a good time.” 


	8. Conditional vs. Unconditional Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“We The Pizza?” Darcy said, as they walked up to the restaurant. Brock grinned at her, scars creasing around his eyes. He’d been holding her hand since they got out of the car, which was weird, but not..unpleasant, Darcy thought. She felt slightly guilty for enjoying it so much.

“I thought you’d like the pun and they’ve got a decent slice,” he told her. “It’s no Al’s, but--” Darcy burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, I’d forgotten Al’s,” she said, as they went in. “You’ve been talking about that pizza my whole life.” It was his favorite childhood pizza place.

“Yeah?” he said, as they stood in line to order. 

“Yes,” Darcy said, nodding and grinning. “I have heard more about Al’s than any other pizza place and that includes commercials.”

“I’ll have to take you sometime,” Brock said. “You know, Ma moved back to the Bronx after my old man died. Her sisters are there and Fallon’s at NYU.” Brock’s sister was a dorm manager at the university.

“Is your mom doing okay?” Darcy asked. “I get the Christmas letters, but you know--”

“She’s doing good, yeah,” Brock said. “I know she’s better being closer to family.” Darcy nodded. 

“It’s hard being by yourself,” she said.

“She’d like it if I settled down,” Brock said. Darcy grinned at him, a frankly wicked thought occurring to her. “What?” he said.

“There’s no rush,” she told him. “In a few years, you can join that dating website for people over fifty.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Brock asked, as the smiling young guy behind the counter asked what they wanted. He was clearly trying to suppress laughter. “You hear her, busting my balls?” Brock asked.

“I’m trying not to,” he said, grinning. His name tag said Ethan. They ordered and sat outside. Darcy was really enjoying her first slice when Brock looked at her. She couldn’t interpret his expression. Was he upset?

“I’m sorry, was I being mean?” she wondered, feeling a knot in her throat.

“No,” he said, a slow smile breaking across his face. “I like it when you’re like this, you little smartass.” That made her laugh. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. She felt like he kept looking at her funny as they ate. “I can’t believe you’re eating pizza,” she said.

“I eat pizza sometimes,” he said. He’d gotten one without cheese. She didn’t understand his willpower. He grinned when she told him. “I’m tough, sweetheart,” Brock said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, scrunching her nose. “It’s kind of scary.”

“You’re the only person in the world who thinks the scariest thing about me is my food,” he said.

“We’re here to talk about the wedding?” she prompted, a few minutes later.

“I’ve got a plan,” Brock said, leaning forward. She recognized this face. This was his work face. 

“A tactical plan?” she offered.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, smirking. “We stick together for Fal’s wedding and we don’t have to make small talk. We just make a pact to stick by each other. Also, I protect you during the bouquet toss.”

“I probably need that,” Darcy admitted, grinning. “Sheila’s cousin almost trampled me at Dave and Sheila’s.” 

“I remember.” He offered his hand.

“Deal,” Darcy said, shaking his hand. “We stick together.” 

“So,” he said. “If you’re scared of weddings--”

“I’m not scared of weddings!” Darcy insisted.

“Sure, you just don’t want to get engaged again or date,” he said.

“I just had a bad experience,” Darcy lied, trying not to blush. “Besides, didn’t you say I was too young? Ah ha!” She waved her napkin in his direction. He smiled.

“Too young for that guy, obviously,” he said. “But you could make a commitment to look for somebody better.” His voice was wry. 

“W-what?” Darcy said, stumbling over the words. 

“I’m assuming he’s the asshole, because he cheated and I can’t imagine you mistreating anybody,” Brock said. “But that’s put you off dating? What happened, Mouse?”

“Ummm,” Darcy said. “Oh God.” She flicked her hair over her shoulders nervously. “It’s so complicated. I mean”--she realized Brock was leaning forward, gaze intent-- “we got together during the Convergence, so that was impulsive. We didn’t have much in common, except working for Jane. He liked camping.”

“That is not good,” Brock said, shaking his head.

“No, Brock-oli, it is not,” Darcy said. “We just weren’t--it wasn’t right. But it’s hard to quit somebody when you’re two parts of a three-person science team. I should have ended it earlier, before the cheating and the ring drama.”

“Ring drama?” Brock said.

“His mother didn’t want me to have a heirloom ring from their family, so he bought me a new one. But it was cheap, because we were poor, and then she sort of sneered at it. I got mad, because I felt like she was setting me up,” she said, shrugging. “We fought about it.” Darcy picked up a slice of pizza. “Arabella was around. His family liked her. And then I had to return the cheap ring because--even though he cheated--legally, an engagement ring is a conditional gift in England.”

“A what?” he said, frowning.

“It’s conditional on getting married, so I’m obligated to return it if we don’t, even if the engagement ended because I caught him with his face in somebody else’s hoohah,” Darcy said.

“Jesus Christ, Mouse,” Brock said, holding a slice of pizza in his hand and staring.

“Is that reason enough to have dating-phobia?” she asked archly. 

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “It is.”

After dinner, he insisted on taking her for a walk around the neighborhood. “Okay,” Darcy said, after they’d walked a bit, hand in hand, “where are we going?” She was a little giddy from his touch and hopped up on the pizza place’s fizzy strawberry lemonade.

“Look, there’s the Library of Congress and the Capitol’s next,” he said, pointing across the street. 

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said, “cool.” 

“You want to cross the street?” Brock said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. They crossed at an intersection. He put an arm around her. Darcy leaned against him with a sigh. “I’m stuffed full of pizza and stupid happy,” Darcy said.

“The Capitol does that for you, huh?” he joked.

“Nope,” she said, feeling daring. “It’s all hanging around you, Brock-oli.”

“Yeah?” Brock said. She could see the corners of his mouth turn up.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. 

“What if we hung around together a lot?” he said. “Since you’ve got the dating-phobia and it’ll be years before I’m eligible to join that, uh, singles site?”

“Really?” Darcy said. She bit her lip. “Okay.” She paused. “What would we do?” she wondered softly, trying not to sound too eager. 

“Movies, dinner, that kind of thing,” Brock said. “Unless you want to go to the Botanical Gardens?” he asked. His voice was teasing. It was nearby.

“Excuse me, I love old lady things, have you not seen my sweater collection?” Darcy said. 

“Mm-hmm,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist as they walked. “This one’s nice,” he said, peering down at her shirt. Stopping on the sidewalk, Darcy felt very conscious of her cleavage situation. 

“Uh-huh. What are you thinking about?” she asked. He’d gone quiet. 

“Nothing much,” he said.

* * *

“How was the date?” Jane asked, when Darcy came inside. The scientist was sitting on the couch, reading an article. Darcy could tell because she had an array of books and highlighters. Thor was snoring in the armchair.

“Not a date,” Darcy insisted. “He wants to go on more of them, though.” She slumped down on the couch with a sigh. 

“Of course he does,” Jane said dryly.

“Don’t mock me. I’m happier hanging out with him than I’ve ever been around anyone else,” Darcy said.

“Rude,” Jane said.

“You know what I mean, I’m happier with him than with anyone else I’d love to see naked,” Darcy amended.

“Also rude,” Jane said.

“Please, I’ve seen you and half of Asgard naked,” Darcy said. Jane squeaked her highlighter along a line of text.

“So, what makes this guy so special?” Jane said neutrally. Darcy could tell she was running a thought exercise. It was a game she and Jane did a lot--talking out various scenarios and opportunities, pros and cons. A good solid way of getting a handle on your fears--or your dreams. Darcy scrunched her face, thinking. 

“He’s always been so good to me,” she said. “You know what he reminded me of tonight?”

“Yeah?” Jane said.

“He used to tie my shoes when I was little,” Darcy said. “He bought me these Snoopy clips to hold my shoelaces tied because he worked at a shoe store.” She huffed out air. “Do you know how well I’ve treated guys who wouldn’t even tell me if my shoes were untied? It sucks eggs. The whole situation sucks eggs.” She paused. “I think he probably bought me my first fun socks at that job.”

“That’s really sweet,” Jane said. “You love socks.”

“I think I love him,” Darcy confessed. “Like, so much.”

“Duh,” Jane said. “Everybody knows that.”

“Rude,” Darcy said. “I just feel like nobody will ever be able to compare to him, you know? What’s that face?” she asked. Jane was frowning.

“Nothing,” Jane said.

“No, tell me,” Darcy said stubbornly. 

“Of course nobody will ever compare to him, you’ve loved him all your life,” Jane said. “Where are you going on the next not a date?”

“No idea,” Darcy said. “Isn’t it rude of him to be so perfect and wonderful and not love me back exactly the way I want him to?”

“Very,” Jane said.

“Maybe I should see less of him?” Darcy asked. Jane snorted. “I’m going to bed,” she announced. 

“A lot to think about?” Jane joked.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, unwilling to admit that _that_ particular fantasy has been around since she was a teenager and still had a see-thru princess phone. She’d imagined sneaking him into her old bedroom, the one next to Dave’s. Except now that she thought about it, she couldn’t picture his unscarred face in her fantasies anymore. She’d imagined the rest of him plenty. Weird. Darcy was sitting on the bed when her phone dinged. “What?” Darcy muttered, one leg in a pair of cotton pajama bottoms with donuts on them. She had to read the text twice.

_See a movie with me tomorrow?_

“He wants to see a movie tomorrow!” Darcy called out to Jane. 

“Go,” Jane yelled back.

“Bad influence!” Darcy yelled back, smiling. She’d already texted _yes._

* * *

“What is that?” Darcy asked, staring at the parking space. Brock had arrived to pick her up again. Except there was a turquoise car waiting. A really old one. With fins!

“I called Coulson to complain about him fake-dying without warning me that you were mixed up in aliens--” he began.

“He’s still alive?” Darcy asked, stunned.

“Yeah, he says hi,” Brock said. “You said hi back. Anyway, Phil’s an old car guy, so he knows other old car guys, I rented this one from a friend of his.”

“You rented this to take me to the movies?” she wondered.

“It’s a drive-in movie, Mouse,” he said, grinning. “One thing, though: we never tell anyone we ate in this thing.” 

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said happily, sliding into the passenger seat. Sitting between her seat and the driver’s side was a big metal tin. “What’s this?” 

“Unconditional gift,” he said, smirking. It was one of those tins of three kinds of popcorn. She loved three kinds of popcorn. “Just watch the upholstery,” Brock said.

“Hold on,” Darcy said. They were still in front of her apartment. She called Jane to bring down towels and napkins. “Do you want beer?” she asked.

“I thought I’d get you a 7-11 slushie,” he said. 

“Oh my God, I love you,” Darcy said and then panicked. He was grinning at her.

“You’re easy to impress,” Brock said. She was saved any awkwardness by Jane appearing with the towels.

“Oh, wow,” Jane said. “This car is cool.”

“You and Thor wanna come with?” Brock asked, surprising Darcy. She felt an odd little pang of jealousy--then immediate guilt. She hadn’t felt this way since she was young and envious of Brock’s glamorous-seeming girlfriends and the way she’d felt like a tag-along with him and Dave sometimes. What a ridiculous thought. 

“Yeah, come with us,” Darcy said, scolding herself internally. 

“You’re sure?” Jane said, almost too knowingly. Darcy could swear that she was smirking.

“Yes,” Darcy said, scrunching her nose and mock-glaring in a menacing way. “But don’t give me any trouble, or you don’t get a slushie!”

* * *

The drive-in movie was actually being held in a parking lot of one of the local universities. They’d brought out an inflatable projector screen and were showing a _Toy Story_ sequel. “This is a fine film,” Thor said, visibly moved. “Very touching.” 

“Yeah,” Jane said. She patted Thor’s leg sweetly as they shared a bag of Twizzlers from the 7-11. They’d added more snacks to Darcy’s popcorn allotment. Darcy looked over her shoulder at them, smiled, and looked tentatively at Brock. She’d been sneaking glances at him all night, watching the reflection of of the movie on the windshield and his face. 

“Scooch in, Mouse,” Brock said, catching her look. _Whoops,_ Darcy thought, but she slid closer. He slung an arm around her. 

“Why’d you pick this one?” Darcy whispered in his ear. He smelled really good. Spicy cologne and soap, her brain registered. She snuggled a little closer, secretly wishing she could run her hands through his hair.

“I had to find a free movie, I blew the budget on the car,” Brock told her, smirking. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We The Pizza is a real place near the Capitol Building.


	9. The Third Not A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Are you going on another not date with Brock?” Jane said, as they closed down the lab. “Three dates in, what, four days?” she teased. Thor was taking her home and Darcy was leaving with Brock.

“He still has the car for tonight, so we’re going for a drive,” Darcy said. “Just a drive.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said. “You were pretty cozy at the movie.”

“Pffhhht,” Darcy said, sighing. “That’s just how he is, Janeybug.”

“Seriously?” Jane said, eyebrows raised.

“He’s very demonstrative, always has been,” Darcy said. “Affectionate with me. Nothing’s really changed.”

“So you think he’s just being a friend?” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Don’t let me get my hopes--and my ovaries--up. I just have to enjoy this.”

“Okay,” Jane said skeptically, snorting at the word ovaries. 

“Sixteen year old me would have been _thrilled_ to get to spend time with Brock without Dave making fart sounds or talking about football in the car. Getting him all to myself? This is the stuff of dreams for little Darcy,” she said. 

“Awwww,” Jane said. She had smiled gently at Darcy’s words. Darcy smiled back. She grabbed her messenger bag and travel mug, waving goodbye to Jane. 

“I’ll see you at home!”

“I won’t judge if you don’t come back before dawn,” Jane cracked. “Or your clothes are inside out.”

“I wish!” Darcy called back, pushing the lab door open. Too late, she realized that Brock was standing at one end of the hallway, talking to Maria Hill. He looked up and smiled at her. “Bye, Jane!” she said, trying to cover for her slip.

“Come say hi to Maria, Maria, you’ve met my M—Darcy?” Brock said.

“Yes,” Darcy and Maria said at once.

“We’re going for a drive tonight, someplace scenic,” he said. “Any suggestions?”

“Oh,” Maria said, grinning. “So, the wedding is on, huh?”

“Huh?” Brock said. Darcy was trying to shake her head unobtrusively.

“I saw the video of Darcy proposing to you,” Maria said. _Oh_ _no, oh no,_ Darcy thought.

“Yeah?” he said, beaming in delight. “You saw that?” He rubbed his jaw and turned his head to grin at Darcy. “Well, she’s changed her mind about marriage, but if I get her to propose again, she’ll make an honest man of me.”

“Very cute,” Darcy said, feeling herself blush wildly. Why did she always blush around him? It was such a giveaway. _Argh,_ she thought. _Stupid face, being all facey._

“Very cute,” Maria echoed. “Have a nice drive.” She looked canny, Darcy thought. It was a little embarrassing, but also strange. 

“We will,” Brock told her. What did Brock mean? After they said goodbye to Maria, he caught Darcy’s confused, blushing glance. “What is it?” Brock said, grinning.

“Honest man, is that even a thing?” Darcy wondered.

“In my case, yeah,” Brock said. “You’re the only woman who could say you knew me when I wasn’t a piece of work.” He slung an arm around her.

“C’mon,” Darcy said, as they got on the elevator. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said. He turned to face her, surprising Darcy. She raised her eyebrows as he put both hands on her shoulders. “I’ve been thinking. You know me, really know me, better than anybody, Mouse. I’ve pretended to be so many people for work--” he began, apparently sincerely, before the doors opened behind him. Cameron Klein was staring at them, mouth open.

“Hi, Cam,” Darcy said. His answering smile was a little weak. Brock stepped back and leaned against the wall near the console panel with a sigh.

“What floor?” Brock asked.

“Hi, Darcy,” he said politely. “Uh, parking deck level, Commander Rumlow.” Klein looked frankly nervous. It was weird, Darcy thought.

“Long day at work?” she queried.

“Yeah,” Cam said. “You--you okay?” His eyes flicked to Rumlow and back to her.

“We’re great,” Darcy said, “we’re going for a drive.”

“A drive?” Cam said, clearly alarmed.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “He rented a Ford Fairlane, it’s so cool.” Brock spoke at the same time.

“I’ve known Darcy since she was a baby, Klein,” Rumlow said. “She lived down the street.” 

“You lived down the street from him?” Cam said. He sounded a little awestruck.

“He used to take me trick or treating,” Darcy said. She looked at Brock. “Are you still carrying any of those old photos of us?” she asked.

“Yeah, I got two in my wallet,” Brock said said, bringing out his billfold. Darcy expected him to have two of the embarrassing ones her mother had sent: her in her Cinderella dress or maybe covered in cake. But instead, it was a photo of them at Dave’s wedding. “That’s her brother’s wedding,” Brock said.

“Glitter eyeshadow,” Darcy sighed out, shaking her head. In the photo, she was gazing up at Brock, looking almost dopey in adoration, next to a smiling Dave and Sheila.

“Wow,” Cameron said. “That’s a lot of eyeshadow.”

“I loved that purple color,” Darcy said.

“And, uh, this one is from a concert for her birthday,” Brock said. He showed Cam the other photo. This one was the least embarrassing of all--they both looked happy and her eyebrows were a normal size.

“Oh my God, I forgot about that! That was when I turned twenty. You surprised me with a Pink Martini concert. He drove down to Culver and my roommates were so impressed,” Darcy said. 

“Yeah?” Brock said, almost preening a little, she thought.

“Totally,” Darcy told him. Actually, her roommates had all declared him hot and suggested she make a move--but Darcy had been dubious. And they hadn’t seen each other in person for several years after that. She wasn’t going to throw herself at him via email or something. “What made you decide to surprise me?” she wondered aloud. That had always made her curious. Brock sighed and the smile fell from his face.

“I’d just met Alexander Pierce,” he said grimly. “I made sure to visit everybody I cared about.”

“Shit,” Cam said, as Darcy’s heart sank. He looked embarrassed again. “Those are nice photos, though. Must be nice to be working together now,” he told Brock, handing back the photo.

“I think so,” Darcy said, trying to cheer Brock up. To her relief, he tucked the photo away and then smiled at her.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

* * *

“Why is he so afraid of you?” Darcy wondered, as they crossed the parking deck.

“I held a gun to his head while I was undercover during the Uprising,” Brock said grimly. “He’s still terrified of me. I meant what I said, Mouse. You know me. Everyone else thinks of me as a STRIKE Commander--or worse. Sometimes, I catch comments or see the way people look nervous.”

“That can’t be true,” Darcy said. “Everyone’s gotta know you’re loyal to SHIELD--you almost died!” she added. She stopped. “Can’t we do something?” His answering look was almost quizzical. He half-turned, smirking slowly.

“What, you gonna fight somebody for disrespecting my sacrifices?” Brock teased.

“Maybe,” Darcy said stubbornly. “I could tase someone. That would get around in this gossip mill.” He laughed, smile wide. Whenever he smiled, she felt like he looked like his old self.

“You would do that for me,” he said cheerfully. 

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t show them photos of your Stamos hair, though,” she said, as they approached the car. “I’m going to miss this car. I like the way it looks like it’s smiling at you.” Seeing him smile had reminded her.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Brock said. “Shit. I never noticed that.” She realized he was looking at her. “You’d miss automatic locks and windows, though.”

“That’s why I let you drive, so you’ve got to roll down your window at the drive-thru,” Darcy said gleefully. “Plus, it reminds me of the Barbie car I had when I was little, it except Barbie’s had pink inside---Brock!” Darcy had reached the passenger side of the car. He had had tagged along with her; when she opened the door, she realized why. Sitting in the front seat was a giant plush in the shape of a pumpkin spice latte. It even had little cinnamon sticks and a pumpkin detail nestled in the whipped cream part of the plush. 

“You’re still nuts about those drinks, right?” he said in a light voice.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said dreamily, sinking down into the car. “This is for me? How’d you know I liked them?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling. “The giant Pop Tart in your bedroom was a clue.”

“Jane got me that. His name is Mr. Pop Tartsies,” Darcy told him, beaming at the PSL plush.

“Put your legs in the car, sweetheart. And watch those cinnamon sticks,” Brock told her. She laughed in delight. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, as he climbed into the car. 

“I thought we could visit someplace we’ve been before,” Brock said.

“What? Where?” Darcy said. But he refused to say anymore. They’d driven for ten minutes when it dawned on her. “You’re taking me to Annapolis?” she asked, smiling. Her parents had driven down to see Dave a few times at the academy when she was young; it had always been exciting--she’d usually gotten to see Brock, too. A glimpse of him and crab cakes was enough to make her happy for a week.

“Uh-huh,” he said. 

* * *

They were sitting at one of the seafood restaurants along the waterfront when Darcy sighed. “What is it?” Brock asked. They had a gorgeous view of the water, there was a tealight on the table, and she’d had his full attention for an hour. It was very romantic---or would have been, she thought, if she’d ever escaped “this is my buddy Dave’s little sister” land. Darcy looked at him. He was leaning forward, eyes on her. He looked really good by candlelight.

“Oh, I just hate that we have to return the car tonight,” she lied. “It’s such a nice night.” That was a good enough reason for the wistfulness in her voice, right? A plausible reason to yearn. She played with her fork.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m kicking myself. If I had it one more day, we could spend the night here.” His voice was warm. For a moment, Darcy thought her brain wasn’t working. Had he just said _spend the night here? Was she hearing things?_

“Oh,” she said, flustered and pleased at once. “Well, uh--yeah,” she stuttered, wishing she knew what he meant. He looked at her. “We could do that,” she said. “If you didn’t have to return the car.” The last words were followed by an errant nervous giggle that somehow came from her body. _Oh Jesus,_ Darcy thought, _I’m giggling. What the hell does he mean? Twin beds or nah? I’m sweating. I’m sweating!_

“Yeah?” he said, lighting up a little. “I didn’t want to, uh.” He paused. Swallowed. Darcy was hanging onto every word and shift in his expression, feeling like she’d been tased. “I thought we should spend some time together, you know.” He gestured.

“Spend time together?” she repeated, heart racing.

“Get to know each other as adults,” he said quietly. “That seemed important. Take it slow, spend time together.”

“Yes,” she said, confused. She nodded. His expression was unreadable. He seemed to blink slowly.

“It’s gonna be a little strange at first,” he said. “You know how people are.”

“People are very--peopley?” Darcy said. He laughed. Darcy’s chest hurt. She was thrilled, but also terrified. He seemed to be saying this was a date? She wanted this to be a date. She could not believe this was a date. Another little nervous giggle escaped her as she sipped the last scintilla of wine in her glass. _Oh fuck, I’ve turned into giggling teenage Darcy,_ she thought, panicking. _Help!_

“Yeah,” he said. “You want another drink?”

“Yes,” she said eagerly. “I would like that.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking at her intently. Her panties sort of melted under the heat of that gaze.

“Uh-huh,” she said, licking her lips. He flagged down a waitress for her, then looked at Darcy while she waited for another glass. They were both looking at each other nervously. Or she was nervous. She couldn’t accurately read his expression.

“You’ve always been such a--a fun personality. I’m happier just hanging out with you, Darcy.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a pang of disappointment at the words _fun personality_ and _hanging out._ “So, you wanted to take it slow, just hang out?” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “We can just hang out, see movies, that kind of thing.” He gestured. This sounded more like the guys she’d dated who weren’t all that serious, not a declaration of real feeling. She felt helplessly sad. The waitress appeared at her elbow.

“Here’s your rosé,” the waitress said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said.

“Whatever you want,” Brock said. “I mean, if you don’t want Fal and Ma to land on you like a piano, we can hold off on telling them we’re seeing each other….But they love you, so they’re going to be thrilled.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “Well, at least your mom likes me.” She’d wanted it to sound like a joke, breezy, but it came out sad somehow.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The PSL Squishable! https://www.squishable.com/mm5/merchant.mvc?Store_Code=squishable&Screen=PROD&Category_Code=Big_Animals&Product_Code=comfortfood_pumpkin_spice_latte


	10. Moral Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was disappointed. Even disappointed, she wasn’t going to miss out on her chance to get her hands on Brock, however. She was thinking about it as the waitress brought a slice of cake to the table. “Smith Island cake,” she told Darcy, setting down the box with the bill.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, nodding. She’d asked for the to-go container.

“You don’t want to eat dessert here?” Brock said. He’d insisted she order dessert. Darcy had compromised and suggested they take it with them. He seemed to be missing the subtext.

“Nope,” Darcy said, raising her eyebrows. “I’ve got other priorities.” She grinned. “You forgot it was the third date already?” she said. Darcy watched as the moods shifted across his face: his eyes widened, he blinked, his lips parted, and then--for just a second--she thought he mouthed the word _shit._ Abruptly, Brock closed his mouth again and shifted in his chair. She realized he was reaching for his wallet. He put cash on the table and cleared his throat. “That didn’t take long,” she said archly.

“You cannot do this to me,” he said, smirking. “It’s unfair.”

“Unfair?“ Darcy said, leaning forward to whisper. “You asshole, you just played the spend the night card and you haven’t even kissed me yet,” she sassed him quietly. “You basically just asked to reserve my pants for the night!”

“No, no, no. I didn’t--”

“Oh, so you’re just into suggesting sex on the spur of the moment?” Darcy said, enjoying making him feel flustered for a change.

“I was, uh, having a moral dilemma,” he said ambiguously. She thought he was actually blushing. 

“Are you blushing?” Darcy said.

“No,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t do that--you’re the one who blushes like a peach.”

“Sure,” Darcy said. “Right. I’m just peachy, huh?”

“It’s your--you’re pale,” he said. He swallowed. “You do blush,” he insisted. Darcy realized he was eyeing her chest. She felt a secret thrill.

“Uh-huh. Maybe we should discuss your moral dilemma in the car,” Darcy said. She slid her messenger bag over one shoulder and picked up the cake. “Ready?” She stood.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” She headed for the door--she heard him follow her--and smiled, feeling warmth flood her body. She wasn’t going to miss out on a childhood dream, even if the childhood dream was to kiss Brock Rumlow. That would be silly. Especially if there was cake afterwards. And maybe a little pursuit beforehand, she thought, walking a little more quickly. She’d gotten to the car and set the box on the roof when he called her name. “Darcy,” he said. She turned and looked at him, leaning her back against the car.

“Yes?” she said. Her heart was thudding in her chest.

“What are you in a hurry for?” he said, walking towards her. He’d tilted his head. “You upset?” he asked, frowning. “I upset you?”

“Let’s talk about your moral dilemma,” she said. “What’s your moral dilemma, Brock?” Darcy crossed her arms. He cleared his throat and took another step closer to her. She was practically pinned against the car. His gaze had gone all intense again.

“I’m better when I’m with you,” he said quietly. “But we’ve known each other so long, I know there’s gonna be a reaction when the forty-three year old and the thirty year old get together.”

“Thirty one,” she corrected, surprised. This worried him? “You’re worried about the age gap? Nobody at work seems bothered,” Darcy said.

“I knew you when you were six and I was eighteen,” he said, muscle jumping in his jaw. “That’s my moral dilemma.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, realizing what he meant. “Well, yeah. But we don’t have to disclose that to everybody we meet. That might seem a little strange, if we just went around telling strangers.” She scrunched her nose. Brock grinned.

“That’s cute,” he said, mimicking her. 

“I’m very cute,” she told him. “You’re cute, too.” She ruffled his hair, playing a little with the longest strands. 

“That so?” Brock asked, looking pleased.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, making the face again.They were both making faces at each other in the parking lot. The salty air coming off the water stirred the ends of his hair. It was still light outside--just barely. He leaned in carefully and brushed his lips against hers. It was the softest, lightest kiss. Darcy felt her body melt. She leaned into it, sucking on his top lip and pressing her chest against his. When she pulled back, Brock was grinning. “First kiss,” she whispered, slightly dazed.

“Yeah,” he said. “You happy?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, nuzzling at him. She wanted to climb him like a tree, but they were still in a parking lot. In Maryland. She felt wildly foolish for not insisting on a DC restaurant. Their beds were so far away. She kissed his scarred cheekbone, then his ear. 

“Darcy,” he said in a low voice.

“Something wrong?” she murmured. She’d felt his Adam’s apple bob.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “you cannot do this to me right here.”

“Hmmm?” she said.

“Let’s go see something,” he said, sounding odd. “Maybe we can sneak in your cake.”

“Okay,” she said, hoping the something was an isolated romantic place. She snuck in a few more kisses before she got in the car. “What is it?” she asked. He was looking at her in a way she’d never seen before. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Brock said.   
  


* * *

“The Paca House Museum?” Darcy said, peering out of the car window as they circled the block. They were on George Street in Annapolis. It turned out that he actually did want to take her somewhere--Darcy was wavering between annoyance that he seemed to be in no hurry to get in her pants and the intense waves of affection she felt for him whenever they were together. She looked at him now, studying the still-sharp line of his jaw and the arch of his temple. She wanted to kiss all of those spots, she thought, repressing a huff of loving exasperation. How could someone make you feel such tenderness and sexual frustration at once? Was that even a thing?

“I wanted to see if the gardens were still open,” Brock said, peering at a sign on the brick fence in front of the historic mansion. “Shit. They closed at two and don’t reopen til Thursday. I was gonna sneak you and your cake in there.”

“You wanted to take me to a garden?” Darcy said, puzzled. “Do you like gardens?” she wondered aloud. He’d mentioned the Botanical Gardens in DC. She didn’t remember him being into gardens before.

“Well, uh,” Brock said, eyes flicking towards her, “I got some plants. Ones that’ll survive when I’m out of town.”

“Ohhh,” Darcy said, weirdly delighted to discover something new about him. “You’ve got plants? What kind of plants?” 

“Rollins gave me a sad little cactus, I nursed him back to health,” he said. She could tell he was proud, even though he was trying to be funny.

“Do they have names?” Darcy said. She liked naming things.

“Uh, no. You wanna name ‘em?” Brock said, smiling gently.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I do.”

“All right,” he said, squeezing her hand. “You’re in charge of names. You wanna drive around before we head back?”

“Sure,” Darcy said. “Tell me more about your plants?” She was genuinely curious. He could talk with great animation and detail about each one, how much sunlight and water they needed, and which ones were difficult to keep alive. She half-turned in the Ford’s bench seat, seatbelt safely on, so she could look at him as he talked.

“I thought it would be easy care, you know, ‘cause that’s what the asshole at the garden center tells me, but it turns out to be an asshole plant. Sheds everywhere,” Brock said.

“Plants can shed?” Darcy said, surprised. Her tone made him laugh. 

“Leaves, Mouse, leaves,” he said, chuckling.  
  


* * *

They talked all the way on the drive home. It slowly dawned on Darcy that Brock was trying to be entertaining, telling his funniest STRIKE stories. He was almost performing. “So, you saved Rollins’ life, huh?” Darcy said, biting her lip to hide her grin. She’d never seen him like this. Was he worried about impressing _her?_

“One of many times. Many times,” Brock said, grinning. 

“I’m sure he’s very grateful,” Darcy said archly. 

“What’s that voice?” he said. “That’s a new voice.”

“Does it bug you?” Darcy said.

“No,” he said in a low, new voice of his own. “Not at all.” They pulled up at Darcy and Jane’s apartment and Brock sighed. “I gotta go return the car, sweetheart,” he said, reaching for her hand.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not disappointed. It’s a great car,” she said. “I had fun, Brock.”

“Yeah?” he said, smile widening. This time, she leaned in first. She couldn’t reign in her impulse to put her hands all over him. She had her fingers tangled in his hair when Brock accidentally elbowed the horn. “Shit,” he said, breaking the kiss. He looked startled.

“Whoops,” Darcy said. 

“Yeah. I gotta go,” Brock repeated, sighing. 

“Kiss me one more time?” she asked, pouting a little. He smirked and slid over closer to her. She’d climbed into his lap when there was a rap on the window. Darcy looked over her shoulder. It was Jane. “Damn you,” Darcy grumbled, popping open the car. 

“I was just checking on the car. I didn’t expect you home tonight,” Jane said, a wicked gleam in her eye. She was clearly being nosy.

“Sure,” Darcy said sarcastically. She looked back at Brock. “My other mom is here,” she joked.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his neck. “I noticed.” She couldn’t read his expression. Was he upset?

“I could bribe her with cake,” Darcy joked, running her hands over his chest. She could feel the muscles underneath his t-shirt. 

“There’s cake?” Jane cut in.

“Yes,” Darcy said, twisting her body and passing Jane the box.

“Don’t, uh, forget your latte,” Brock said. The Squishable was smiling from the backseat.

“I would never!” Darcy said. “How dare you, Commander.” She lifted the latte out, grinning. “But I could always go with you?” she offered.

“That’s okay,” he said cryptically.

“Okay,” Darcy said, confused. She got out of the car.

“I’ll call you,” Brock said, sliding over and leaning out to grab the passenger door handle. “Bye, Mouse.”

“Bye,” Darcy said, hugging the latte to her chest. “I had a great time in Annapolis.” She waved. He shut the door and she watched as he slid back in front of the steering wheel and drove away.

“You went to Annapolis?” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, torn between confusion and delight. “We’re dating, bee tee dubs.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.

“Also, you’re only allowed to have half my crazy layered Maryland cake and this is my new plush from Brock,” she said, swaying back and forth happily, before they walked inside. “I’m a little bugged that he didn’t want me to go with him to return the car.”

“Sorry, I interrupted your kissing,” Jane said. “I didn’t think you were going to be kissing!”

“I know,” Darcy said, sighing, half-dreamily, half in irritation. “He said something about spending the night in Maryland, I thought he’d at least want to spend the night in my pants.”

“Someone’s taking her third date seriously, all of a sudden,” Jane said. 

  
  



	11. Quality Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Fuck,” Brock said out loud. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He was running on a treadmill in SHIELD’s gym. Hernandez stopped and grinned at him.

“You okay, boss?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Fine. Just hate this part of my day.” Running was his least-favorite exercise, but a required part of the regimen, if he wanted to stay quick on his feet. Also, he was preoccupied about Darcy. He’d left her quickly last night. Too quickly. He’d had plenty of time to lay awake, wondering how to handle things between them. He wasn’t used to this--knowing a woman so well and caring so much at the beginning of a relationship. It was almost frightening to think they could have a fight and then she wouldn’t be in his life anymore. He’d been trying to impress her, but it felt awkward. And then he’d rambled about his fucking plants--

“No shit,” Hernandez said. “I heard you went on a date with Lewis?”

“What?” he said, too sharply. “Who told you?”

“Lewis,” she said. “Saw her in the elevator. She was leaving brownies for the team.”

“Oh,” Brock said. “I didn’t know.” He stopped the treadmill. “She left brownies?”

“She said they were for us, not you,” Hernandez said, smirking. “But they were fucking good.” She turned. “Weren’t Lewis’s brownies good, Evans?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Evans said. “Boss, if you don’t treat your girl right, there’s gonna be no shortage of competition--”

“Shut the hell up,” Brock said. He pointed. “I know you’re all messing with me.” 

“We’ll never tell,” Hernandez singsonged, in a horror movie voice, before she went over to weight bench. 

“You gonna do the walk?” Evans said. Hernandez had once done contortionist training to enable her to do special mission work and liked to startle people by spider-waking across the floor while staring up at the ceiling.

“Haven’t warmed up yet,” she said. She looked at Brock, still frowning on the motionless treadmill. “Do you think Lewis would like to see that?”

“Fuck no,” Brock said. “She’s terrified of horror movies. Do not do that.”

“Oooh, somebody’s overprotective,” Evans said. “You leaving?” Brock had gotten off the treadmill with a _thunk._

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll see you in the meeting, all right?”

“Sure,” Hernandez said. Brock heard Evans wonder where he was going. 

He headed downstairs, still sweaty and heedless of the stares at his gym clothes. When he pushed open the door to the Archives department, one of SHIELD’s in-house researchers looked at him in puzzlement. “Commander Rumlow? Are you...lost?” she said. He didn’t usually frequent this department. He sent Rollins down. Jack liked to research things. Brock ordered his books online and had them shipped to the house. He liked his privacy.

“No, I, uh--you have normal books, right?” Brock asked, rubbing his jaw.

“Yes?” she said. “We have an extensive collection of general non-fiction, fiction, and various technical guides and specialty materials--”

“I need all your books on relationships,” he said.

“Relationships,” the archivist repeated.

“And dating. Not all the books, the good ones. Rollins says you’re helpful and, uh,” Brock said.

“Oh yes,” she said, lighting up. “We love Agent Rollins. Let me show you that section?” As she lead him through the shelves of books, she talked. “We do collection development and weeding fairly regularly.”

“Weeding?” he said, confused.

“Getting rid of books that don’t circulate or are scientifically outdated,” she said. “We also do a yearly booksale to fundraise for our supplemental programming. I’m surprised Agent Rollins hasn’t dragged you with him, he loves those sales.” She glanced back at him. “Dating and relationships?” Her expression was curious.

“Yes,” he said. He felt himself grinning like an idiot. “I’m, uh, dating Darcy Lewis”--he was careful not to call her Mouse-- “Jane Foster’s assistant?” Why should he hide it, he thought? If Darcy was okay telling people, then he could.

“Darcy? We met the other day,” the archivist said, smiling. 

“She’s great, right?” he asked. The woman nodded. “She--we’ve known each other a long time. I was friends with her brother when we were kids,” he explained, hoping that didn’t sound odd. “So, I want things to go well.”

“You’re cramming for your new relationship?” the archivist said, laughing. “That’s wonderful.”

Brock left with an armload of relationship guides and a five-dollar agency branded tote that supported SHIELD’s supplemental programming. He was reading at his desk and taking notes after a meeting when Jack stopped by. _“Love Languages,_ mate?” Rollins said, obviously peering at his notepad.

“Mind your own damn business,” Brock told him, absent-mindedly. He was reading.

“Is this for Darcy?” Jack asked. “Because hers are obviously acts of service and gifts.”

“How’d you know?” Brock said, frowning as he looked up for the first time.

“She makes everybody brownies and all that,” Jack said. He ticked off things on his fingers. “Takes care of Foster, organizes movie night, throws birthday parties, those are all a blend of service and gifts.”

“Huh,” Brock said. He’d been trying to decide--he thought Darcy did all of five things for him. 

* * *

Darcy was eating a brownie at her desk when her desk phone rang. “Hello?” she said.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Brock said. The sound of his voice thrilled her.

“Hi,” Darcy said. She automatically leaned into the receiver.

“I heard you brought the team brownies,” he said. “I appreciate that, Mouse. Everybody’s happy.” He sounded awkward. Almost stiff.

“Are you okay?” Darcy wondered. 

“Yeah,” he said, “yeah. I’m good. Uh--” Darcy waited a beat as he paused. Across the room, Jane mouthed _what_ and Darcy made a face.

“Are you there?” Darcy asked, after a long moment of silence.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m here. Would you like to, uh, have dinner with me tonight?”

“Sure,” Darcy said, baffled by the weird lulls and pauses in the conversation. “With the STRIKE team and Jane and Thor?” They usually all had dinner sometime during the week.

“No, uh, I was thinking about the two of us,” he said. “Just us. So we can talk.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Great.”

“Yeah? Good,” he said.

After they hung up, Darcy looked at Jane. “Well,” she said, frowning. “That was a little weird.”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

“He kept not saying anything!” Darcy said. “He’s never like that. He wants to talk, Jane!” She frowned. “What if it’s _the talk,_ you know?”

“Not possible,” Jane said reassuringly. But even she looked perplexed.

* * *

Brock hung up the phone and stared at the receiver. He felt confused. What had gone wrong? Jack must’ve caught his expression. “You all right, mate?” the Australian asked.

“Yeah,” Brock said. 

“You don’t look all right,” Jack muttered.

“Kiss my ass,” Brock said sharply. He sighed. “I just don’t know how to do this whole give compliments thing,” he added, lifting up the library book.

“You were trying to compliment her?” Jack said, grinning widely.

“It feels unnatural,” Brock said. “This words of affirmation shit.” Jack started to laugh openly again.

“Go back to ragging her about her cupcakes, boss,” Hernandez called from her cubicle. Brock sat up, startled.

“You assholes were listening in?” he said. There was a choruses of yeses.

“I think you need our help, man,” Evans said. “That was pitiful.”

“I think it was more awkward,” Chen said. “Pitiful would imply he was sympathetic and she might feel sorry for him.”

“Let us help you, boss,” Hernandez said.

“How you gonna help me?” Rumlow said, feeling defensive.

“You got reservations yet?” Chen said. 

“Shit, no,” Brock said. “Where am I taking her?” He started moving around his notes off the keyboard and knocked a book on the floor. “Motherfucker,” he said. “What is wrong with me?”

“Do you want us to answer that?” Evans called.

“Don’t make fun of him--” Rollins said.

“Thank you,” Brock muttered.

“--it’s too easy,” Rollins finished.

“I’m your fucking boss,” Brock reminded him. 

“I’ve got you a restaurant!” Hernandez called, as Brock shot Jack a dark look. “Bistro Cacao. Online res for 7pm. Super romantic, Rumlow.”

“Yeah?” Rumlow said, relieved. He could hear keys clacking as the whole team looked up the restaurant. “Why so late?” he asked Jen.

“Because, she might want to go home and change or something?” Hernandez said patiently.

“Yeah,” Brock said. Made sense.

“Oh,” Chen said. His tone had shifted.

“Oh what?” Brock said.

“This is a good date restaurant,” Chen said. 

“Real good,” Evans said. “Chicks love that French stuff--damn, they drape the booths in red curtains? Oh, this is some good shit, Jenny. I gotta take a woman here.”

“Thank you,” Hernandez said brightly. 

“Good place for an early date if you want to revisit for the proposal, too,” Jack said slyly.

“What?” Brock said, feeling tightness in his chest as the words registered. He felt like he’d been punched. Several faces peered over their cubicles.

“Ahhhnnnt,” Hernandez called out. “Too soon, Jack!”

“You okay?” Chen said, frowning. “You look pale, Brock.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, stop your bullshit, Rollins,” Brock said. 

* * *

“Wow,” Darcy said, as she sat down at one of the restaurant’s tables. Their table was curtained off with red drapes, like a canopy. There was a little shaded lamp on the table and French posters hung on the adjoining wall. Bistro Cacao was French, Brock had told her. But she had been unprepared for the romance factor and it was a little disorienting. “They probably do a lot of business on Valentine’s Day,” she said to him. She was glad she’d gone home and changed into something slightly nicer before he picked her up. Brock nodded, then scooted up her armchair gently. Their table had fancy armchairs.

“You good?” he said, expression serious.

“Y-yes,” Darcy said, stuttering a little as she realized this was _precisely_ the kind of thing she’d imagined at sixteen. This exact date was her teenage fantasy date. She’d probably wanted the red chandelier hanging a few feet away from their table in her bedroom back then, too. 

“You sure?” he said, frowning. He was wearing a really nice suit, too. No tie, though. He’d always hated ties. She remembered him vowing never to wear them again when he left the Navy. 

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “This is a really great restaurant.”

“Yeah?” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up. “It’s uh---Hernandez recommended it.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She’d thought it was oddly romantic, for him. “I’ll have to thank her for that.” There was weird lull in the conversation as they waited for someone to come to the table. She couldn’t quite figure out the mood of the evening. She looked at him. He looked at her, smiling ambiguously, then down at the menu. Darcy looked down, too, then back up again, drawn by inexorable curiosity to his face. She couldn't focus on food when he was just _there_ and they were on an actual date. It was doing funny things to her heart rate, knowing that he was finally interested in her--she was excited and nervous and confused all at once. She realized his shirt collar was misfolded inside his jacket. Seized by a bizarre impulse, she reached over and fixed it. The table was small enough for her to reach him. “There,” she said, before he grasped her wrist and seemed to study it. She hadn’t expected that. Or the way he leaned down and carefully kissed the inside of her wrist. “Oh,” Darcy said. He flicked his eyes to her face.

“Mouse,” he said, shifting her fingers between his palms. He was rubbing her hand gently.

“Yes?” Darcy said, not meaning to sound arch, but somehow ending up there. Why did she sound like that when she was nervous? Ugh! She bit her lip. “Sorry,” she said. The last thing she wanted was to put him off, but things kept coming out of her mouth that way and she didn’t know why--or like it. It made her feel like a mean girl. Like she was a shallow teenager on a date. She’d done it in Annapolis, the fake bravado, when he’d thrown out that suggestion that they spend the night. But as a permanent mode, it made her uncomfortable and unhappy.

“Why are you apologizing?” Brock said, raising an eyebrow.

“I--I don’t know why I sound like that,” she confessed. “Like a snarky little asshole. I think I’m nervous.” To her surprise, he broke into a wide grin.

“I like it,” he said. 

“You like me seeming like a jerk?” Darcy said, making a face. “I want to be nice to you--normal nice.” She sighed and made to pull her hand away. “I hate whatever is going on my brainbox,” she said.

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “Hold my damn hand.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, all fluttery in her stomach. The waiter arrived at that moment.

“Somebody smells great,” he said. “Like Christmas or something.”

“Is it me or him?” Darcy asked, offering the waiter her free arm to smell.

“It’s her,” Brock said at the same time. “She’s the one.” 

"Yup," the waiter said.

“Marshmallow Pumpkin Latte from Bath and Body Works, super fancy,” Darcy joked, as they ordered drinks.

“It’s great,” the waiter said. When he left, Brock grinned, scars twisting.

“He was trying to pick you up,” he teased Darcy. “Wasn’t even scared of me.”

“Nooo,” Darcy said. “He knows you’re my date. We’re holding hands!” She felt herself smiling stupidly.

“Let’s talk about us, huh?” he said, seeming to study her.

“What about,” she began sassily, then corrected her tone. “Okay, let’s talk about how you feel first, please?” she amended.

“I feel happy,” he said. “I’m here with you, you look wonderful, everything’s good wi---what’s that look?” Brock asked, voice low. Darcy gazed at him in happiness. The restaurant was so nice and Brock was looking at her and it was everything she’d ever wanted in her whole life-- “Honey, what’s wrong?” he said, as she started to cry, overwhelmed by her emotions.

“I don’t know,” she said, trying not to sob. “I’m just so happy. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I've been pretty down and unmotivated to write recently, so I decided to send the kids to Bistro Cacao and write a low-stakes chapter. The little booths look fantastic: https://www.instagram.com/p/CBwo2VfBKws/


	12. How Are We Doing, Folks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I’m fine, really,” Darcy insisted. “I’m fine.” She’d gotten a tissue out of her purse and was trying to dab at her eyes without messing up her makeup. 

“Mouse,” Brock said in an intense voice. He’d stood automatically to close the curtains around the table and give them privacy, and was trying to coax her into his lap. “Lemme hold you,” he said.

“I don’t wanna be weird in the nice restaurant,” she said. 

“You think nobody’s ever sat in someone else’s lap in this place?” Brock said, voice lighter. He was grinning at her now. Darcy looked at him, deciding what to do. “You know people have. That’s the whole idea of these fucking curtains. C’mere,” he added, holding his hands out to her. It was impossible for her to say no to him. Darcy moved over--her heart was thumping in her chest--and sat in his lap. She was rewarded with a careful, soft kiss. 

“Oh,” she said. His eyes were locked on hers. She tried not to lose it again, gaze flickering over his features. The warm, dim light of the restaurant softened the appearance of his scars and made him look younger. Darcy studied him for a moment. His features were familiar and strange all at once--the deep-set brown eyes, strong jawline and five o’clock shadow had been a part of her memories for years. But was it her imagination or were there some changes, other than the Triskelion scars? Those sharp-edged temples and his high cheekbones were more prominent. Brock’s face was tougher and more angular, she thought. She hadn’t realized it until now. He’d lost some of that soft boyishness.

“You okay?” he asked, as she glanced at him tentatively, feeling weirdly shy.

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“What you thinking about? What an old man I am?” Brock said. She shook her head.

“No,” she said, grinning. “I was thinking that you looked thinner. Do I need to make sure you eat?” Darcy joked. “I’m good at that, you know. I do that for Jane.” He laughed, huffing out air.

“I’m just a hundred,” he said. His eyes raked over her face and down her body. “You, uh, look wonderful,” he said. “We should talk about that more. How gorgeous you are and how lucky I am that you’re here--”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, feeling herself blush wildly. 

“What?” he said, smirking. His scars twisted. 

“Don’t make me cry again with all these compliments,” Darcy said softly. She looked away.

“I can’t compliment you?” Brock said.

“Nope,” she said, biting her lip. “I’m having trouble with compliments at the moment.”

“You’re having trouble with compliments and fancy restaurants, huh?” he asked. 

“Maybe a little,” Darcy admitted. “A tiny bit.” She met his eyes. 

“So, I should insult you, take you crummy places?” Brock teased. That made Darcy laugh. “Okay, I got this,” Brock said, nodding. “I got this. Next time, I’ll take you to a fast food place with plastic utensils.”

“Sure,” Darcy said, between giggles. “Sounds great.” He was rubbing her hips gently as she sat in his lap.

“And that outfit’s terrible,” he said, eyes gleaming. “We should take that off, it’d probably look less lousy on my bedroom floor, sweetheart.” Darcy stared at him, slightly stunned. He was looking at her lasciviously. She’d never seen that expression before--not aimed at her, anyway. Her heart started to race again. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she squeaked.

“You don’t look so okay, Mouse,” he said teasingly. “C’mere.” He coaxed her in for another kiss, this time more noisily. Darcy felt herself start to giggle again. She was still laughing when the waiter parted the curtain.

“How are we doing, folks?” he said, setting down wine. “Oh, we’re doing...well?”

“She got a little overwhelmed by the ambiance,” Brock said.

“I’ll go back to my chair,” Darcy said. She stood and looked at Brock. “Snitch.” 

“Ooh, you’re being mean to me again,” Brock said. “I thought you wanted to be nice tonight?” His eyes had lit up. 

“I changed my mind,” Darcy sassed. He smirked. 

“Does anyone want to order?” the waiter offered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brock said, eyes still on Darcy. “You wanna order for me?”

“What?” she said. 

“Order for me,” he said. He smiled at the waiter. “She brags that she’s good at feeding people.”

“I am!” Darcy said. She glanced at the menu. “I’ve got this. I’ll have the mushroom ravioli,” she told the waiter. “And he’ll have the salmon. Do you want to substitute something else for the mashed potatoes? Asparagus?” she asked Brock. He was studying her across the table.

“Let her have my mashed potatoes,” Brock said. “She loves potatoes.”

“Awwww,” Darcy said. “I do love potatoes. I really love them.” 

“Okay,” their waiter said.

“I’m crazy about him, too,” Darcy added impulsively, then wondered if she shouldn’t have said it. She looked to Brock. He was beaming now. “He’s slowly coming around,” she said. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Brock said, mouth dropping open. 

“It’s taken him years--literally, years--to even ask me out,” Darcy said, deciding she could snitch on him a little. 

“Hey,” Brock said, as the waiter politely backed away. “You know how I feel about you, sweetheart.”

“I’ll get those entrees in,” he said, looking slightly stunned.

“We need to discuss this,” Brock said intensely, as the waiter backed through the curtains.

“Whoops,” Darcy said, “I think we scared him. What?”

“You really have no idea, do you?” Brock asked.

“What do you mean?” she said, reaching for her wine glass. She was taking her first sip when she looked at him.

“You’re going to wreck me,” he said, leaning in so their faces were close. “You’ve had me wrapped around your little finger for twenty five years--” She almost spit out her wine and set the glass down hastily.

“Excuse me?” Darcy said, gobsmacked. “What are you talking about?” Ridiculous, she thought. Everyone knew  _ she  _ adored him, she was the one who loved more, the infatuated, delusional little girl. “What is this historical revisionism?” she sassed. “I followed you around like a duckling!” She gestured and he leaned back again, sighing.

“Mouse,” he said. It was almost a groan. “C’mon. You know this.” He sort of tilted his head sideways and shifted in his fancy armchair, like he couldn’t stand sitting still.

“So, you have actual feelings, not just the desire to”--she couldn’t resist using a dopey male voice--  _ “just hang out and chill, babe?”  _ Darcy prompted.

“Jesus Christ, is that what you think?” he said.

“It was news to me that we were even dating,” she said, finding it impossible to stop grinning. “I thought we were lifelong friends and then you Netflix and chilled me in Maryland!”

“You’re twisting my words all around,” he said, eyes glued to her face. He pitched his voice low and moved closer to her again. “C’mon. You know me. And you’ve always been able to get me to do anything you wanted,” he said in a low voice. “Anything.” It made her shiver a little, that voice. He must’ve seen.

“I want examples,” she said, swallowing. He was smirking again when she met his eyes. “Because I thought you got  _ me _ to read books about Nixon, which is way ha--more difficult than whatever I asked you to do,” Darcy insisted, stumbling around a potential double entendre. “If I ever actually asked for anything.”

“You mean when you called me on the phone”--he did a sad, tiny voice-- “pwease, Brock-lee, Dave’s watching bad stuffs, I need your helfs? Pweeease.”

“I did not lisp like that!” Darcy said hotly. Her lisp hadn’t sounded like that, had it?

“I show up and you do the Precious Moments doll face at me, tears everywhere, until I go yell at Dave, and then I make you popcorn and you’re all happy again,” he grumbled. “When do you ever remember me saying no to you?” 

“I’m sure you said no once--you did normal teenager stuff,” Darcy said, making sure she pronounced the last word correctly. “I remember your girlfriends,” she added. “It’s not like I deprived you of a social life.”

“I used to take you on my dates, that’s why you remember the girlfriends,” he said, grinning so his scars twisted. “Especially if Dave and I were double dating, you would cry if I didn’t bring you, too.”

“What?” Darcy said, stunned. She didn’t remember that. 

“It took me awhile to realize you thought of me as your property. You were four years old and you used to call Tina Esposito  _ Trina,”  _ he said, laughing.

“I had a lisp,” Darcy said.

“Pwease,” he snarked. “You were like a sponge. You knew she thought I was sneaking around with Trina Ballard and extremely jealous. Somebody must’ve mentioned it in front of you. Who told you? Dave?”

“I have no memory of that,” Darcy said, biting her lip. 

“You were perfectly nice to all of Dave’s girlfriends, but you would call her Trina and then giggle. It was a tell, Mouse,” Brock said. He was practically beaming. “You’d go _Trina I mean Tina tee-hee-hee,”_ he said in his fake-Darcy voice.

“Oh,” Darcy said slowly. “You knew?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Back then, anyway. You never displayed irrational jealousy after first grade. You were very sweet once you learned to share me with other people.” 

“Shut up,” Darcy murmured, without malice. “You always bragged to everyone that I loved you more than Dave.”

“Yes, I did,” he said. His expression was ambiguous. “That still true? You still love me?” he said quietly. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 


End file.
